Another Reason
by HeavenRose
Summary: The police say Kendall simply ran away, but Logan, James and Carlos are convinced their friend had a more significant reason for leaving. Driving Mrs. Knight's stolen car, they set out to find Kendall and bring him home - before it's too late.
1. Scream

**A/N: This fic is rated T for angst, violence, and minor swearing uttered by antagonists to come in later chapters. I will post warnings in front of each chapter if there are any. Updates may be a little slow, as I've decided to risk publishing this even though I've only completed a few chapters so far. Please review and leave me some feedback! Your comments motivate me to write. Thanks so much for reading! Enjoy the first chapter of 'Another Reason.' :)**

**Warnings: Mild violence**

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**Another Reason**

Chapter 1  
Scream

When Kendall strode into apartment 2J, he was not at all surprised by the sight before him. Smirking amusedly to himself, he peered into the kitchen and saw Carlos, who was on his knees with his forehead pressed against the glass of the oven window, longingly monitoring the tray of food slowly cooking inside. There was no doubt in Kendall's mind that the guys were going to be dining on corndogs and tater tots for supper.

He quirked a bushy eyebrow, approaching his Latino friend and clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You know," Kendall told him, "staring at the oven isn't going to make it cook any faster."

Carlos's unblinking eyes remained glued to the spot. With each exhalation a thin fog glazed over the window. For a moment, Kendall wondered if Carlos had even heard him. It was possible, considering the noise emitting from the living room was practically thunderous. Upon further inspection, Kendall realized that Carlos was in fact murmuring something to himself. Curious by his friend's trance-like state, Kendall leaned forward to hear what Carlos was saying.

"Fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five…"

Kendall stood erect and rolled his eyes. He figured he might as well go see how Logan and James were faring, since a hungry Carlos could either be extremely dangerous or no fun at all. Bearing in mind that Carlos was busying himself by becoming a human timer for his tray of food, Kendall assumed the latter.

"Headshot!" Logan exclaimed, bouncing up and down. The television was near its maximum volume, the monitor jiggling slightly with each violent explosion on screen. Both Logan and James stood atop the orange couch in their excitement, feet sinking into the cushions. Logan's eyes were wide with delight and triumph, whereas the brown-haired boy appeared frustrated and a bit vexed. Their thumbs worked rapidly on their videogame controllers, moving joysticks and clicking buttons.

Kendall had to holler in order to be heard over the sound of their game. "Did my mom call?"

"Hah! Take that!" Logan shouted victoriously, grinning ear-to-ear.

James huffed an annoyed sigh. "Oh, come on! You can't just crouch behind a bush and wait for me to come out of the portal. That's such a cheap move."

"It's called _strategy_," Logan quipped.

The argument had only begun, but Kendall could already sense it would never cease unless he stepped in. With four long strides he was in front of the TV and manually lowering the sound to a more reasonable level, immediately catching the attention of Logan and James. When they finally noticed he was there, the two boys hopped off the couch and onto the floor, pausing the game by pressing a button on the controller.

Kendall tried again. "Did Mom call?"

"Oh, yeah," replied Logan. "She said she's stuck in traffic, so her and Katie won't be back for a while." He nodded towards the kitchen. "Carlos is handling dinner."

Just the mention of the word had Kendall's stomach rumbling. It was nearly eight o'clock, and he had last eaten at lunchtime. Usually Mrs. Knight prepared the evening meal, but she had taken Katie out on a 'mother-daughter bonding adventure' to do some shopping. Kendall had spent a good portion of the afternoon hanging out with Jo, and had found out upon glancing at the screen of his neglected cell phone that he had a missed call from his mom.

"Okay, two on two," James said, changing the subject. He restarted the match settings of his and Logan's game as he spoke. "Me and Kendall versus Logan and Carlos, a.k.a., the losing team."

Kendall instantly accepted the challenge, snatching a controller from the coffee table and plopping down on the couch. "Oh yeah." He called to the boy in the kitchen. "Carlos, get in here and play."

Carlos said nothing. His nose remained squished against the exterior of the oven, palms flat against the surface. Knowing Carlos's short attention span, Kendall wondered how Carlos was possibly managing to keep his gaze so solely fixed upon an object for such a lengthy period of time.

"Come on," Logan urged. "With my tactical game play and your… spontaneous grenade-throwing, they won't stand a chance."

"I am so hungry," Carlos said monotonously.

Unfortunately for him, the boys were not going to take 'no' as an acceptable answer. With a smirk and a nod of his head, Kendall wordlessly commanded James and Logan to fetch their friend in the connecting room. The two exchanged knowing glances before marching up to Carlos, each seizing an arm and forcibly peeling it away from the appliance Carlos was situated in front of.

"Noooo," he whined, effortlessly being lifted from his knees. "The package says they need to cook for fourteen minutes, and they've been in there for eight minutes and forty-nine seconds! Well, it's probably, like, nine minutes now. I mean nine minutes and one second. Two seconds. Three. Four. Five. Six…"

His heels scraped the floor as he was dragged by Logan and James into the living room. With a small shove to get him to sit, Carlos was placed beside Kendall on the couch and had a controller promptly thrust into his hands.

"The battle has begun!" James declared dramatically, starting the game.

Carlos seemed to completely forget about his corndogs and tater tots the moment James's words were uttered. The boys' virtual characters darted all directions, firing laser guns at each other and detonating explosives. The apartment was alive with noise, not just from the blaring television, but from the string of sardonic jeers spilling from James's competitive mouth, and from the witty retorts Logan shot back, all in good fun, of course. Carlos quickly recovered from the temporary trauma of being literally pulled away from his beloved dinner and joined in on the fun, laughing continuously at Logan and James's incessant bickering while still attempting to maneuver his character.

It always amazed Kendall how entranced the four could become when faced with something colorful and violent, like videogames. Soon they were oblivious to everything around them except for killing each other on screen. Kendall was enjoying himself thoroughly, and time completely escaped him.

It wasn't until a harsh odor assaulted his nose that he glanced over into the kitchen. He gasped and fumbled for the 'start' button on his controller, pausing the game. "Oven on fire!" he cried, pointing.

Carlos gasped loudly and bolted to his feet. "Ah!" he screamed, diving over Kendall in his attempts to get off the couch. Kendall caught a foot to the face before Carlos flopped off his lap and landed on the floor, rolled a few times, then picked himself up. Kendall shook off the stinging on his cheek and rushed behind his friend, Logan and James following closely behind.

Thick, black clouds rolled out of the oven. Carlos fearlessly yanked open the door, yelping and withdrawing his hand when orange flames lashed out at him. Kendall grabbed the sleeve of Carlos's shirt and tugged him away from the oven, just incase Carlos, in his state of panic, didn't have enough sense to remember that fire was hot. Because that happened one time.

"What do we do?" James coughed, waving his hand in the air.

Before Kendall could propose a plan, Logan was parting his way through the group and halting in front of the oven, fire extinguisher in hand. Cold foam squirted from the black tube, coating the inside of the oven in a matter of seconds. The flames disappeared, and with a final squirt, the smoke ceased wafting out as well.

Logan stood stationary for a moment, staring at what he had just done. Normally he was the last person to step up and take charge. Kendall squeezed Logan's shoulder appreciatively. "Nice," he said.

Logan nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.

A high-pitched cry came from Carlos as he fell to his knees, reaching out to the charred nubs remaining on the blackened tray. His moment of pity was gone as quickly as it came, and he whipped around to his three friends. "_Now_ what are we going to eat?"

Kendall coughed a few times before answering, clearing the remaining smoke from his lungs. "Fun Burger?"

* * *

The restaurant was a good fifteen minutes away by foot, and once most of the smoke had been fanned out of the apartment, the boys were on their way. The sky was already purpling, and upon squinting, Kendall noticed a few tiny stars dotting above. Carlos led the way down the sidewalk, endlessly jabbering since the four had left.

"If you guys would have just let me watch my corndogs, none of this would have happened," he ranted. "But oooh no, you had to make me play that stupid game." He stuck a finger at Kendall and James. "Which, by the way, me and Logan were owning you at."

Kendall groaned, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets as he walked. He knew as soon as they arrived at their destination Carlos would shut up, but it was hard to be patient sometimes.

"Uh, no," James replied, stepping beside Carlos, "I believe it was Kendall and I who were about to be the victors."

Carlos gave James a semi-playful shove to the shoulder. "Were not! Right, Logan?"

"Please leave me out of this," Logan moaned.

Kendall chuckled to himself.

The taller boy returned Carlos's gesture, nudging him to the side. "Were too."

"Were not." Carlos smacked James on the chest.

"Were too!"

"Were not!"

"Ow! Were too!"

With every shout back and fourth a light punch was being thrown. Until, that is, the Latino let out a scream and lunged forward, tossing his body on top of James in hopes of wrestling him to the ground. James cried out and stumbled from the weight of Carlos practically on his back, then thrashed left to right to throw him off.

Kendall and Logan stopped and instinctively took a step backwards. Kendall could faintly understand what his fighting friends were shouting to each other, only being able to make out bits of broken sentences.

"Woah!" Logan suddenly cried. "Road, road!"

Kendall gasped and hustled ahead, grabbing a firm hold of the collar of Carlos's shirt and yanking him away from James, who was being tugged forward by Logan. They had been dangerously close to the curb, almost toppling onto the busy street.

Carlos and James were glowering at one another as Kendall and Logan separated them. "What have we told you about fighting near the street?" Kendall chided.

Carlos looked at his feet. "To not to," he said sheepishly.

Kendall heaved a sigh and cast his green eyes to the road, taking note of the traffic that flew past. A black car rolled by, much slower than the rest of the vehicles. For a second or two Kendall stared after it, wondering if the driver was somebody he knew. When the car proceeded to turn a corner, he shrugged it off and refocused his attention to his friends.

They continued en route to Fun Burger, James smoothing out a disheveled lock of hair and Carlos struggling to straighten the collar of his shirt. Logan walked between the two, eyeing them cautiously to make sure they didn't start at it again and fling themselves off the curb.

A light breeze drifted past, causing goose bumps to prick the back of Kendall's neck. He burrowed his hands further into his pockets. By LA standards, the sixty-five degree weather was a bit chilly for this time of year. If Kendall was back in Minnesota, sixty-five would be a heat wave. He'd be enjoying his time outside in shorts and a tank top, no doubt having a squirt gun fight with the guys. His time in California had softened him to the effects of the weather, and in a way, Kendall was bothered.

"Did you know who that was?" Logan suddenly asked.

Kendall was confused. "What?"

Logan nodded towards the street. "That car that drove past."

The blond craned his neck, eyes immediately falling on a slow-paced vehicle just ahead. It was the same car he had seen moments earlier. "I couldn't tell," replied Kendall, though he hadn't gotten a decent look of the driver.

Fun Burger finally came into view, and Carlos promptly broke out into a run, proclaiming his hunger for the world to hear yet again. Logan laughed and shook his head as he bounded after his friend, Kendall and James giving in and jogging behind.

Carlos flung open the restaurant door, nearly shattering the tiny bell that jingled upon his entering. He dove into the nearest booth and scooted against the wall, placing his palms flat on the table.

Kendall, Logan and James took their time, entering and sitting at a leisurely pace. Kendall himself was eager to get a burger in front of him, but his self control was stronger than Carlos's.

Fun Burger was a nice place to eat. Red, vinyl booths spanned against the checkered walls, with a few tables cluttering the center of the eatery. The fifties-styled diner was abuzz with upbeat music, despite the fact that the boys were the only costumers inside. The place was unusually empty.

Logan slid into the booth next to Carlos, with James and Kendall seating themselves on the other side. As soon as they were settled, a uniformed waitress appeared carrying a bundle of menus.

"Burger and fries," the boys all said in unison.

The young girl raised her eyebrows, shrugged, and twirled back around. She disappeared behind the front counter, no doubt informing the cooks of the boys' orders.

Carlos slumped his head down, forehead smacking into the table. "I am so hungry."

"We know," muttered Logan. "You've told us ten times."

James clutched a hand over his stomach. "I'm starving, too," he said. Then he turned to Kendall. "What about you? Did you catch a bite with Jo?"

Kendall shook his head. "No, our movie was at six, and we didn't think to eat before that." As if on cue, his stomach growled.

"Ooh!" Carlos's head snapped up. "I have an idea. Let's play a game."

"Like what?" asked Logan.

"Um." Carlos thought it over for a few moments. " 'Would you rather?' "

"Fire away," said James.

Carlos put a hand on his chin, pondering. Playing a game wasn't actually a bad idea, because if Carlos wasn't occupied soon, he may start shoveling uneatable objects into his mouth to alleviate his gnawing hunger. It had happened one time when the boys were seven, and Carlos ended up going to the emergency room for swallowing one of Logan's toy Matchbox cars. Carlos hadn't done anything in the likes since that day, but nine years later it was still a worry etched in the back of Kendall's brain.

"Okay," he finally said. "Would you rather go a whole year without seeing a girl, or a whole year living with Gustavo?"

Silence descended upon the table as each boy carefully contemplated the options.

"That's…" Kendall began.

"Too hard," James finished.

Logan shook his head. "They're both so torturous."

Amusement glinted in Carlos's eyes as he awaited an answer. Kendall could practically hear the _Jeopardy!_ theme play.

"What would you pick?" Logan asked the Latino after several moments of deep concentration.

Carlos shrugged his shoulders. "I asked you first."

Thankfully, the question was quickly forgotten when the waitress reappeared, balancing a large tray on her shoulder. She skillfully lowered the burgers onto the table plate by plate. Carlos instantly dove in, and Kendall hoped his friend remembered to breathe.

When the waitress wished them an enjoyable meal and left, Kendall grabbed hold of his warm dinner and took a big bite, chewing slowly. Logan popped a few ketchup-doused French fries into his mouth, James hasted in removing the pickles from underneath his bun, and Carlos ravaged his burger like a wild animal.

Kendall glanced up when a light jingling filled his ears. Two men stepped into the restaurant. Their eyes surveyed the interior of the building, landing on Kendall. He looked away, finding eye contact with strangers awkward. As Kendall took a second bite, he couldn't help but notice that the men seated themselves at the booth on the other side of Big Time Rush, in spite of the rest of Fun Burger being completely void of customers.

"Seven-hundred calories have never tasted so good," James murmured through a mouthful of food. He reached up to wipe a spot of grease from the corner of his mouth with his finger.

Logan nodded his head, too absorbed in consuming his fries to voice a response. Surprisingly, Carlos managed to mumble an incoherent sentence around the cheeseburger to his lips.

Most of the meal was eaten quietly, as four hungry teenage boys had no interest speaking to one another when the 'funnest' burgers in town were in front of them. Kendall had made his way through half his meal when Carlos finally said something.

"I'm done."

They all peered at his plate and saw that it was indeed spotless.

"How?" Logan asked incredulously. He himself had only just finished his fries. Logan always ate the food on his plate one thing at a time, Kendall noticed. Now that Logan's French fries were gone, he'd start on his burger.

Carlos opened his mouth to answer. However, his face suddenly scrunched up and he put a hand over his chest, belching loudly and rudely. Kendall, James and Logan all laughed, earning a few head-turns from the bored workers resting at the front counter.

As their stomachs began to fill, conversation started up again. "So? Have you guys decided yet?" wondered Carlos.

The friends in question sighed. "Carlos," said Logan, "no one can possibly choose between those things."

"Okay, fine," relented Carlos. "Um… Who would win in a fight? Freight Train, or that guy who stands behind the Palm Woods and tries to sell expired coupon books?"

"Freight Train, definitely," Kendall said without hesitation.

"Freight Train," James agreed.

Logan nodded. "Yup."

Carlos raised his eyebrows. "Hey, Coupon Guy could put up a fight. Paper cuts hurt, dude."

Kendall chuckled as he rose to his feet.

"Where're you going?" said James.

He gestured to the corner of the building. "Bathroom." Kendall left the table when Logan began discussing what their plans for tomorrow were. As Kendall crossed the room to get to the restrooms, he thought about his own schedule for the next day. Gustavo had given the boys a rare day off, and what was even more atypical was that Jo was free, too. Kendall and his girlfriend had plans to meet up for lunch, which most likely consisted of a romantic picnic in the park.

The thought of Jo lighted a small smile upon his face. He pushed open the door to the bathroom and did his business. As Kendall approached a sink he realized he would pick living with Gustavo for a year over a year without girls - more specifically, a year without Jo.

He squirted a dime-sized amount of soap into his hands as the door to the room opened. The two men entered, Kendall offering a friendly smile and a nod when he looked up. He didn't think anything of it when the bubbles were rinsed from his hands and the guys were still standing stationary. He failed to notice one of the men, a skinny, spiky-haired guy, maneuver past him to a sink on the opposite end of the line.

Kendall turned off the running faucet and reached for a paper towel with dripping hands. When they were dried decently, he started towards the door. Only then did it hit him that the burly, thick-muscled man blocking the way was a bit suspicious.

"Uh, excuse me," Kendall said, trying to be polite.

Suddenly, a rough hand seized his forearm. Kendall let out a startled gasp, instinctively curling a fist at his side. His efforts were useless when a second grip clasped around his wrist and yanked him backwards with a violent tug.

His heart nearly leaped out of his chest from the abrupt force, mind whirling to comprehend what was happening. He was just about to slam an elbow into the body pressing against his backside when the stranger guarding the door gave a malevolent smirk. Kendall's blood ran cold when the man lifted the tail of his black shirt to reveal a pistol held by the waistline of his jeans.

Still squirming uncomfortably in the other's hold, Kendall opened his mouth to cry out for help. His fist twitched and quivered with desire to fight away the freak behind him. But dumbfounded shock prevented him from functioning in the way he wished.

Kendall's face reddened and he shuddered when he registered a voice in his ear. It was that dark, venomous tone from the spiky-haired man that had hot fear pounding through Kendall's body: "I wouldn't scream if I were you."


	2. Silent Valediction

**A/N: Yay, fast update! Boo, I haven't started on Chapter 3 yet. But spring break is coming up, so I should have some time to work on it then. Thanks so much to everyone reading and reviewing. I really appreciate it. :)**

**Warnings: Angst**

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Chapter 2  
Silent Valediction

Logan's forehead pressed against the surface of the restaurant table as he tiredly listened to James and Carlos engage in a game of I-Spy. Kendall had been in the restroom for almost ten minutes, so the boys decided to pass the time with more games. Unfortunately, Carlos was terrible at figuring out what yellow object James was referring to.

"Uh, the sun?" Carlos guessed.

James shook his head. "It's nighttime."

"Okay, um… Butter?"

"Carlos," James sighed, "it has to be something in this room. That's why the game is called I-Spy."

"Oh." Carlos put a hand on his chin and surveyed the interior of the eatery. His brown eyes suddenly lit up. "The mustard bottle!" he cried with a snap of his fingers.

"You already guessed that," Logan mumbled, not lifting his head. "Twice."

Carlos crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, there's nothing else that's yellow in here."

Logan was usually a fairly patient guy. He had to be, considering he hung out with Carlos and James. And it was times like this that made him flash back to spending long hours in his bedroom, assisting Carlos with his algebra and James with his chemistry. During those study sessions, Kendall was never allowed to come over, because though his intentions were to help, he often became a distraction to the two boys. Even without Kendall, Logan would occasionally have to separate Carlos and James - who no doubt had some sort of attention deficit problem - by means of a cardboard barricade.

"Try looking in front of you," Logan finally told Carlos as the Latino continued to be stumped on locating the color yellow.

Carlos looked down, eyes scanning over the table. He pointed to a scuff mark etched into the grain of the wood. "This little line? It's kind of yellow."

"Oh, it's a French fry!" Logan exclaimed, snapping up and tossing a hand in the air.

Carlos's eyes widened in realization. "Oh, I see." He smiled. "Good one, James."

James nodded his head, smirking knowingly.

Logan's irritation melted at the sight of his friends' faces, and he broke out into a loud laugh. With Carlos and James giving him a strange look, Logan picked up the aforementioned fry and stuck it into his mouth. He only had a few more left to eat. Carlos had finished the remainder of Logan's burger for him, and James had devoured his food during the time Kendall was in the restroom.

James sprawled out on the booth, propping his legs up in Kendall's empty seat. He patted his belly. "Well, I'm full," he sighed contentedly.

Carlos shrugged. "I think I'm still hungry."

Logan poked Carlos in the side. "You're like a bottomless pit."

"I know," said Carlos, seeming to take it as a compliment. He gave Logan a nudge with his elbow. "Let me out so I can order a shake."

Logan complied, standing to let Carlos crawl out from the booth. He sat back down and watched the Latino bounce up to the front counter, digging in his back pocket for his wallet.

James exhaled an impatient breath, drumming his fingertips against the table. "Kendall's taking forever."

Logan gazed at the half-eaten cheeseburger on Kendall's plate, which had likely gone cold. The blond really had been in the bathroom for a while; Logan hoped he was feeling alright. A few years ago Kendall hid being sick from the guys, as he figured falling ill was 'for the weak', or something stupid like that. It was frightening when the boys were in the middle of hockey practice and Kendall collapsed on the ice from overexertion. But Kendall had seemed fine on the walk to Fun Burger, so Logan assumed his friend was merely suffering from an upset stomach.

Carlos sauntered back over to the table a moment later holding a chocolate shake in a to-go cup. Too lazy to get up, Logan shuffled to the side and took Carlos's previous spot against the wall, letting Carlos take a seat at the edge of the booth. He happily sipped on his drink, round cheeks puffed out and looking like a giddy four-year-old.

Logan looked up when he noticed Kendall finally emerge from the restroom. He walked stiffly, eyes fixed on the floor. James straightened up and made room for Kendall to take his seat, narrowing his eyes when he observed the strange way Kendall moved.

"Feeling okay?" Logan asked when Kendall plopped down. Kendall immediately folded his hands in his lap, gaze remaining downcast. Even Carlos stopped slurping his shake when Kendall failed to give a direct answer.

"Kendall," Logan said again.

Kendall glanced up at Logan for half a second, but it was long enough for Logan to see that his friend's face was completely ashen, and glistening beads of sweat dotted his forehead. Kendall weakly shrugged his shoulders, then tugged at the sleeves of his jacket as he shivered.

There was a short pause as the three boys shared looks with each other, silently wondering if they should press on. Carlos was the one to speak next. "You going to eat that?"

Kendall didn't seem to hear him. He turned his head a bit to the side and briefly closed his eyes. The bell over the door to the restaurant jingled, alerting Logan to the two men who had just exited. He barely noticed them walk by, as his attention was solely on his clearly distressed friend.

"Hey," said James.

Kendall opened his eyes.

"Gonna eat the rest of your food?" Carlos asked a second time, reaching out to snag a fry from Kendall's plate anyway.

Kendall murmured something in a low voice. Logan inclined forward to hear. "What?"

The blond abruptly stood. "We're leaving," he declared. He sidestepped to get out of the booth, then turned his head to look out the restaurant window.

Logan, James and Carlos remained in place, confusedly staring at the boy on his feet. Kendall whipped around to them, slamming a fist on the table when no one moved. "I _said_, we're leaving."

James jumped, Logan yelped, and Carlos nearly choked on his drink. Not wanting to anger Kendall further, Logan obediently fished around in his pocket for his billfold, slapping a ten dollar bill on the table. James took his money out slowly, his hazel orbs never leaving Kendall. Logan knew James could occasionally be defiant regarding an unfavorable decision made by Kendall, but the brown-haired boy kept his mouth shut and tossed some money next to his empty plate.

The three rose simultaneously. Kendall was already heading for the door, and it didn't take someone with a sharp eye to notice that his step was uneven due to trembling knees.

"What was that about?" Carlos whispered to Logan as the guys stepped outside. The sun hung low in the sky, and traffic on the streets had lightened considerably.

Logan shrugged. "Hey, Kendall," he said. "Are you going to puke or something?"

Kendall halted on the sidewalk. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if fumbling for words. Logan waited expectantly until, finally, Kendall replied, "Yeah, maybe."

James was by his side a moment later, concern lacing his words. "You going to make it home?" he asked. "Do you need us to call your mom? She's probably back by now."

Kendall pushed a hand through his blond hair, seeming flustered. "No. Let's go home."

He waited for Logan, James and Carlos to proceed forward before he continued walking as well, bringing up the rear of the group. Logan hoped Kendall didn't vomit, because the sound of someone else's stomach heaving always caused Logan to become nauseous himself. It was an unfortunate quality to possess, considering he planned to be a doctor someday.

"Let's play more BioHazard Blast when we get home," said Carlos before bringing the straw of his dessert to his mouth.

"Yeah, okay," Logan agreed. "James needs to redeem himself, anyway." He gave said friend a playful nudge to the side.

"Hey," James protested, "the game wasn't over. Me and Kendall still could have won if the oven hadn't started on fire." He rotated around. "Right, Kendall?"

Logan and Carlos both turned their bodies when Kendall said nothing. Logan half-expected to see his friend doubled over on the sidewalk being sick, but Kendall only seemed distracted. As the three boys stopped walking, Kendall kept moving until he smacked into James.

"Woah!" Kendall cried breathily. His hands flew out of his pockets and he leaped backwards, green eyes flashing in surprise.

"Dude, you okay?" James asked, raising an eyebrow at Kendall's odd behavior.

Kendall rubbed a hand over his chest, taking a few deep, calming breaths. Logan could see his hands shaking. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He brushed against James's shoulder as he pushed his way through his group of friends. "Keep walking."

Logan and Carlos looked at each other, wearing the same inquisitive expression. Logan jogged up to Kendall and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Hey," he said, quietly. "Seriously, man. You alright?"

Kendall refused to meet his eyes. As the boys continued to pass buildings and shops on their way to the Palm Woods, Logan strained his ears over the traffic zooming by to the left. The rustling sound of paper against fabric came from Kendall. But Logan shrugged the suspicion off quickly, figuring it was nothing.

"I'm fine," Kendall murmured. "Just a little sick."

Carlos hopped up to Kendall's other side. "Maybe you ate too fast," he suggested. "I do that all the time."

"True," said Logan, "but eating too fast has no effect on your body. You've become immune."

Carlos shrugged. "Good point." He sucked loudly through his straw.

Kendall shuddered.

The members of Big Time Rush continued onward. Most of the stores and businesses they passed were closed for the night. The streets were beginning to dim as the sun sank below the horizon, and they all were aware that Mrs. Knight frowned upon them wandering about town at night.

Unconsciously picking up their pace, the boys arrived home in no time. Carlos tossed his empty cup into a trashcan in the lobby of the Palm Woods before the four stepped into the elevator. Logan watched Kendall closely on the ascension to the second floor, noting how he fidgeted uncomfortably and frequently swiped a hand across his glistening forehead. It was a mystery to Logan how Kendall's symptoms had manifested so rapidly. It chilled him to think that maybe this was the start of a horrible flu that would have Kendall debilitated for weeks.

But no. He was being ridiculous. That wasn't going to happen. Kendall would be fine; he always was.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Kendall was the last of the four to shuffle out, muscles visibly tense. James found the apartment door unlocked and entered, greeting Kendall's mother, who was frowning in the kitchen.

"There you are," she said. "I was just about to call you."

Logan then noticed that Katie was standing beside her, a small smirk curving her lips. "What happened to the oven?" Kendall's sister wondered, gesturing to the black mess inside.

"They did it," Carlos accused.

"Did not," Logan snapped defensively. He sighed and softened his tone when he spoke to Mrs. Knight, who had her hands on her hips. "We tried to make some dinner, but got distracted and… well, the oven sort of started on fire. So we went to Fun Burger instead."

Mrs. Knight narrowed her eyes and stared at the four for several seconds. "Okay." She clapped her hands together and spun around, shutting the oven door with her hip. "Anyone still hungry?"

"Ooh, I am," Carlos said, eagerly racing to a spot at the table.

"Logan? James?"

James hummed and patted his stomach. "Ah, no thanks, Mrs. Knight. I'm still pretty full."

"Me too," replied Logan.

She rifled around in the refrigerator and spoke without looking up. "Kendall? Want me to make you something?"

It was not surprising when Kendall didn't hear her. He stood rigidly with his back pressed against the closed door of the apartment. "Sweetheart," Mrs. Knight said, eventually turning.

Kendall blinked and looked up. His eyes first landed on James, who remained near the table, then shifted to Carlos, who wore an expression of concern, then lastly to Logan, who stood just a few feet ahead. He closed his eyes and opened them slowly, making eye contact with his mother at long last. "No."

"Kendall's sick," Carlos blurted to Mrs. Knight.

In seconds she was gliding across the room with a digital thermometer she seemingly obtained from no where, forcibly sticking it into Kendall's mouth without time for him to protest. Mrs. Knight watched him intently as she awaited a beep signaling a temperature had been reached.

Logan stifled a laugh at the look on Kendall's face. The poor guy nearly went cross-eyed as he peered down at the stick poking out from under his nose. He reached up to either remove the thermometer or to adjust it, but Mrs. Knight gently slapped his hand away.

Seconds later an electronic ring was heard. Mrs. Knight snatched the device from underneath Kendall's tongue and tilted her head to read the display. "Hmm," she said, placing a motherly hand on his forehead. "You don't have a fever."

Logan raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Along the entire walk home Kendall was sweating yet occasionally shivering as if suffering through hot and cold flashes due to fever, not to mention his skin was pallid.

Kendall bucked up and offered his mother a light smile. "I think I'll go to bed."

Mrs. Knight leaned in to give her son a quick peck on the cheek. "Good idea. Do you need me to tuck you in, sweetie?"

From in the kitchen, Katie snickered. Even Logan fought away the urge to smirk.

"No," Kendall said. "I'm fine. Goodnight, Mom." He headed off towards the hall. "Night, guys."

"Night," Logan, Carlos, James and Katie replied in unison. As Kendall strode past, Logan swore he could hear the papery noise yet again.

"Carlos?" said Mrs. Knight, snapping Logan out of his thoughts. "Sandwich?"

Carlos bounced excitedly in his seat. "Yes, please!" He then gestured to James and Logan. "Then we have to continue our game. Katie can take over Kendall's spot."

"Cool," said Katie. "Who's my partner?"

"James."

Katie groaned. "Aw, come on! James is _terrible_."

James held out both hands, looking sincerely offended. "Hey, I am not!"

"Are too," Katie insisted. "I could beat you at that game when I was three."

"Yeah, that's just because I let you win," James said, a slight tinge of red creeping into his cheeks.

"Right," Logan drawled, chuckling. "So if you two play each other right now, you'll win?"

"That's right," James said, sticking his chin out in the air.

Carlos hopped up from the table and rushed into the living room. "Katie versus James! Loser is banned from videogames for a week."

"You're on." The ten-year-old crossed her arms over her chest. "What's the matter, James? Scared?"

"Yeah." James marched up to the coffee table and seized a controller. "Scared for you."

The battle had begun. Only minutes later Carlos was happily munching on a sandwich, Katie was forcing James to sign a legally binding contract stating that he was forbidden to even touch a gaming controller for seven whole days, and thoughts of Kendall had floated out of Logan's mind.

* * *

Kendall clutched a hand over his aching abdomen, feeling like he had swallowed a ball of lead. His stomach twisted and churned with a heavy, sinking sense of trepidation. Sweaty, shaky fingers raked through his already disheveled hair as he anxiously paced his bedroom floor.

This could not be happening.

Kendall's wobbly knees finally gave out. With a tiny gasp, he collapsed onto the floor, panting hard. He scooted on his bottom until his back was pressed firmly against the edge of his mattress. When Kendall felt the contact, he tightly shut his green eyes and balled his hands into fists, fingernails digging painfully into his clammy flesh. So many emotions coursed through him; it was too overwhelming. He was angry. Boiling with rage. Stunned and confused and wondering why. Why him? Not to mention he was so frightened that his rapidly thumping heart threatened to pop right out of his chest.

Kendall glanced up at his bedroom door, praying it would stay closed. James, Carlos and Logan always labeled Kendall as their fearless leader. The truth was, the things that gave them shivers usually scared Kendall, too. He just didn't let them see it. Kendall had become an expert at faking emotions, plastering a bright smile on his face to comfort Carlos after his fish died, or staying strong for James when he was convinced there was a serial killer in his basement, or masking disappointment to instead offer an encouraging pep talk when their hockey team was defeated in the semi-finals.

The guys thought nothing unnerved or upset Kendall, and he worked hard to keep it that way.

But this time was different. His usual calm, confident composure was gone. He was practically hugging his knees to his chest and wheezing like Logan when he freaks out and has a panic attack. If one of the guys walked in now, they would be shocked. They would be terrified.

Kendall lowered his head and rubbed at his eyes. He had to buck up. Had to calm down.

Taking a deep breath, Kendall used his trembling fingers to reach into his jacket pocket. The small manila envelope he revealed seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Staring at the unmarked exterior, Kendall pulled himself up to sit on his knees. Hesitantly, the blond fiddled with the clasp. It took him several tries. When the top of the envelope was folded back, Kendall noted a thick stack of papers upon peering inside. Frowning, he emptied the contents onto the carpet in front of him.

He immediately located several photographs, as well as a type-written sheet of paper. Kendall let out a low groan, fighting away panic. He grabbed for a photo first, stomach flip-flopping when his fears came true. It was a picture of him and the guys walking through the Palm Woods parking lot. James had his mouth open, like he was talking to Logan, who was beside the taller boy with his hands stuffed into his pockets. Kendall's eyes were caught in mid-roll, his expression no doubt caused by Carlos, who was grinning goofily like he had just told a joke.

Kendall's breathing hitched in his throat. Eyes transfixed to the photo, he scanned every detail. He remembered that day. There was dark blotch on Logan's vest, caused by Carlos when he had flung a spoonful of Jell-O at Logan's chest earlier that morning. It had happened about a week ago. Eight days, actually, because the day Logan was assaulted by gelatin, Kendall remembered, was the same day Jo regretfully cancelled a date with him due to late shootings of her television show.

He breathed harder, quickly sifting through the pile of photos. He only glanced, searching for a snapshot of his girlfriend, his mother, Katie, or even Camille. Thankfully - yet strangely - the only bodies captured in the photographs were that of Big Time Rush.

A thick lump formed in Kendall's throat. There was a picture of James at Palm Woods park, one arm blurred as he reached out to catch a red Frisbee. A similar shot of Carlos, readying himself to toss the plastic disk. Then there was Logan and James, entranced by some magazine on a pool chair. Kendall, with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Carlos, James and Kendall laughing at something that wasn't in the frame.

This could not be happening.

Letting out a growl, Kendall scooped up every photo and angrily pitched them across the room. Pictures flew every which way as they collided with the far wall of his bedroom, raining down behind his dresser and scattering across the floor. A pathetic whimper escaped Kendall's lips, and though he was alone, he blushed. His head throbbed with confliction.

Kendall rested a hand over his loudly hammering heart, closing his eyes in his attempts to calm himself before he totally lost it. Never in his life had he been so at a loss regarding what to do. He was the go-to answer guy to James and Logan and Carlos, the most responsible boy in his mother's eyes, and the best big brother ever according to Katie.

Wiping away a trail of hot sweat from his brow, Kendall slowly reached down to grab the letter. It was difficult to unfold due to his sticky fingers clinging to the page. When he finally managed, the paper shook so badly in his grip that Kendall had to sit cross-legged and rest the sheet on his lap. A smaller square of paper fluttered out. It was an address slip, of no significance to Kendall. Knitting his brow, Kendall set it aside.

He read the note.

Then read it again.

And again.

And again.

When he came upon the last word of the note for the fifth time and his mind had finally comprehended what he was reading, Kendall nosily crumpled the paper into a ball, the address slip included. He hated touching it and he hated looking at it, so he whipped it across the room with all his might, not even bothering to watch where it landed. His eyes pricked with unwanted tears, but he refused to let them fall. What good would crying do, anyway?

This could not be happening.

"What do I _do_?" he whispered miserably to himself. Feeling weak, Kendall once again hugged his knees to his chest and bowed his head, his options whirling around in his brain as he weighed the pros and cons of his ultimate decision.

Time passed impossibly quick. He did not hear the guys' loud footsteps as they retired to their respective bedrooms for the night, but was instead oblivious to the world around him as he curled up on the floor and pondered. It was a choice that would change his life forever; maybe even determine life or death.

Three silent hours didn't seem like a sufficient amount of time to sort out the current state of affairs. But when Kendall at long last looked up and saw that it was nearly midnight, he had made his decision.

He worked fast. Pulling himself to his feet with unsteady legs, Kendall crossed his bedroom to yank open his closet door. He dropped to his knees to dig around in the clutter for an old backpack he used for school when he was younger. He located it underneath a pile of junk, brushed it off and zipped open the top. Having no idea what to expect, or if bringing along supplies was even permissible, Kendall reached up and tore off several shirts and pairs of pants from their hangers, stuffing them haphazardly into his backpack. In a swift motion his closet door was closed and he was making his way to his dresser, shoving in pairs of socks and underwear. A small, metal lunchbox displaying a colorful array of cartoon characters was hidden in the far corner of his drawer. Without a second thought, Kendall removed the wad of bills inside and tucked them away in a side pocket of his pack.

He sighed as he surveyed his room, racking his brain for anything else he may need to bring. When his eyes landed on his bedside table, Kendall slid open the drawer and rifled around for a watch. He fastened it securely around his wrist, checking to make sure the time was correct by looking at the alarm clock on his dresser.

Kendall could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he bended down to pick up the photos and envelope that had been strewn about the floor. He gathered them speedily, jamming everything into his backpack before zipping it up and hoisting it over his shoulder. Double-checking his cell phone was in his pocket, Kendall froze in his haste, taking a last, good look at his room.

No. He couldn't leave like this. He couldn't walk out without some sort of goodbye.

Tears threatened to fall again, but Kendall fought them off. He never once thought it would end like this. He never considered having to write out a farewell note to his friends and family.

Sniffling, Kendall found a piece of notebook paper on his desk. A pencil sat in his quaking hand, lead resting on the paper but never making a move. What was he supposed to say? He couldn't tell them anything about his whereabouts, or tip them off in any way. And if he poured his heart out into telling each person how much he cared about them, the letter would just sound like a suicide note or something, and that was just ridiculous.

Briefly shutting his eyes to fend off another round of nausea, Kendall scrawled a single sentence out on the page. He made sure the covers on his bed were made neatly, then gently laid the note on his pillow.

His hand glided down the strap of the backpack over his shoulder as he straightened himself up to say goodbye to his room. He could be gone for days, weeks, months, or even forever. If Kendall would have known earlier, he certainly would have savored the last night in his own comfy bed.

He wiped at his eyes. It was almost midnight. He had to leave, but his feet felt glued to the floor. He desperately searched his mind to remember the last thing he had said to his friends and family. It was 'goodnight'.

He wished he had said 'goodbye' instead.

Kendall lowered himself onto the edge of his bed in a moment of weakness, covering his face with his hands. Even if he had the chance to say farewell, what would he say?

He'd definitely tell Logan not to freak out. _Stay calm. Keep the guys together. And keep Carlos from hurting himself and James from jumping into things he's not ready for. Follow your dreams and get into med school. And make up your mind with Camille already. She's not going to wait for you forever, buddy._

Kendall would tell Carlos not to cry_. Don't do anything stupid, and keep wearing your helmet. Study hard so you actually graduate, and make Logan help you with your homework. Force James to help you get a date, because you will find someone eventually, and trust me, the wait will be worth it._

He'd make sure James knew it's okay not to be the 'macho man' all the time. _Take care of Katie and keep her safe. Go ahead and be a model or a singer or an actor, but never lose track of your roots and who you are. And give Logan that twenty bucks you still owe him._

Kendall didn't even want to think about what he would say to his mom or his sister. Mrs. Knight had raised him and Katie practically alone and sacrificed so much for the two of them, dropping everything and moving from Minnesota to LA, _twice_. She was the best mother any kid could ask for. And Katie. He'd never see her grow up, never get to walk her down the aisle like he promised he would. At least she'd have three other brothers to take care of her. James, Logan and Carlos were protective of Katie, Kendall knew, and she should be able to cope without him.

This could not be happening.

With his silent valedictions scrolling through his head, Kendall rose to his feet. He started for his closed bedroom door, but stopped, one hand on the doorknob. A framed picture of Jo sat on the table by his bed, smiling at him when he woke up every morning. Striding over, Kendall took the frame in his hands and brought it to his lips, smudging the glass with a small kiss. He sadly replaced the photo in its designated spot, twisted the doorknob and stepped into the dark hall before he had a chance to change his mind.

He crept quietly, not daring to flip on a light. Tip-toeing down the short hallway, Kendall made it to the main room of apartment 2J, thanking the divine powers above that everyone was asleep. He hadn't considered what he would have done if someone had been awake.

A strange sound emerged from Kendall's tight throat, and he clapped a hand over his mouth as he shuffled to the front door.

This was it. This was actually happening.

He had to do it. He had to follow the instructions on the note and leave his baby sister, his mom, and his best friends. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, he needed to do it quickly and without a second thought. If he didn't, the experience would be ten times more painful. And Kendall's aching heart couldn't handle any more grief.

He took a deep breath. Grabbed the door handle. Stepped outside.

As it turned out, Kendall's swift departure was not any less heart wrenching.


	3. Empty Hangers

**A/N: Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing! I really, really appreciate it. Please continue to let me know how I'm doing! Enjoy chapter 3. :)**

**Warnings: None.**

* * *

Chapter 3  
Empty Hangers

Carlos was hungry.

It wasn't unusual, however, because his incessant appetite constantly nagged at him to be satisfied. Even during the middle of a meal his stomach would growl. Carlos could not remember a time when he was actually full. It was a mystery how he was not overweight.

Mrs. Knight's cooking certainly gratified his palate. She stood in the kitchen over an electric frying pan, the delicious scent of cooking pancakes nearly making Carlos drool. The table was already set, a plate and glass of milk in front of each person, minus Kendall, that is, as he was still asleep.

Logan sat across the table beside Katie, leaving James to sit next to Carlos. The taller boy was running a comb through his wet hair, using his other hand to hold up a mirror. It was a ritual to blow dry it exactly eight minutes after emerging from a shower, in the mean time combing it delicately as to prevent breakage. Carlos knew nothing about proper hair care. Heck, he stuck his head under the sink when he was too lazy to take showers in the morning (much to James's dismay). Unlike the other members of Big Time Rush, James was obsessively fastidious regarding outward appearances. None of the guys ever mussed up James's hair, not even as a joke. The harsh wrath of James Diamond just wasn't worth it.

"So, what do you guys have planned for today?" Mrs. Knight wondered, using her spatula flip a couple pancakes. She was still in her pajamas, a pink robe wrapped around said sleepwear. Wavy, auburn hair was pulled back as she cooked.

Logan answered. "Well, that museum downtown is opening up a new exhibit, so I might check that out." He looked to Carlos and James. "You guys want to come?"

Carlos and James didn't need to reply; a raise of their eyebrows conveyed the message to Logan. The dark-haired boy shrugged at them. "Fine. Your loss."

Carlos doubted that. He really didn't see what was so fascinating about objects that belonged to dead people. He preferred not to dwell on the past, but to think of the future. Like how in a few minutes he would be happily indulging on the deliciousness that was Mrs. Knight's food.

"You wanna hang out with me today?" James asked Carlos, finally setting aside his grooming products. "It's going to be a nice day, and I need to work on my tan."

Carlos shrugged, keeping his eyes intently trained on Mrs. Knight as she loaded up a large tray of food. "Okay. Maybe Kendall can come with us too, if he's feeling better."

"Actually," Logan said, "I think Kendall said he's hanging with Jo today."

"Oh yeah." Carlos remembered now. Kendall had been looking forward to a lunch date with his sweetheart all day yesterday. Admittedly, Carlos was sometimes marginally jealous - not of Kendall and Jo spending so much time with each other, but the fact that they had each other to spend time with. It'd be nice to have a girlfriend. "Do you think we should wake him up?" Carlos asked Mrs. Knight.

Kendall's mother replied as she strode to the table with a thick stack of pancakes resting on the plate in her hands. "Oh, let him sleep a bit longer." She placed the breakfast on the table, immediately stepping backwards as not to have her hands bitten off. "If he is coming down with something, then he needs his rest."

Carlos nodded and piled two fluffy slabs in front of him. Not wasting time to bother coating his breakfast in sweet syrup, he stabbed the pancake with his fork and shoved it in, chewing on one end while the other half hung limply out of his mouth.

"On second thought," Logan chuckled, "maybe I should stay home and teach Carlos some table manners."

"Iph ahpp ammphl mmphmmphr," Carlos said.

"No, you don't," replied Logan, as he was the only one would could accurately decipher Carlos's mumbling.

Carlos shrugged and continued chomping away. Katie gave him a half-amused, half-disgusted look as she reached for her own breakfast. Eating pancakes always reminded Carlos of the boys' first year of high school back in Minnesota, where they had a most unusual experience. Recalling the comical event, Carlos snickered.

"What's so funny?" James asked, sipping on his cold beverage.

Carlos chortled. "Remember that one time when Kendall got whacked with a pancake?"

James nearly spat out his milk as he laughed at the memory. Even Logan joined in on the mirth, grinning widely as he stuck a slice of breakfast into his mouth.

"Wait," said Katie. "You haven't told me this story before." From in the kitchen, Mrs. Knight was also wearing a subtle smirk.

Carlos swallowed what was in his mouth before he dove into the tale. "Okay," he explained. "We were all at school hanging out at Kendall's locker, right? Then we turned around to go to class, and all of a sudden, out of no where, this pancake just smacked right into Kendall's face!"

"Nailed him so hard that he dropped to the floor," James laughed.

"And we were looking all over, trying to find out who did it, but there was no one even in the hall," Logan continued.

Katie narrowed her eyes as she pondered. "Oh, is that why he never ate breakfast in ninth grade?"

"Yup," the three boys said simultaneously.

Mrs. Knight then interrupted. She glanced back at the clock on the oven, humming under her breath. "Maybe I should get Kendall up," she said. "See if he needs anything."

Logan wiped his mouth with a napkin as he stood, chair scraping lightly against the wood floor. "I'll get him," he volunteered.

Mrs. Knight smiled in appreciation, busy clearing away the counter tops and replacing dishes in the cupboards. "Don't stand too close," she warned. Logan disappeared into the hall, and Carlos fell right back to eating. He hoped Kendall was feeling well. Today was the first day off the guys had been granted in quite some time, and for Kendall to spend it cooped up in his room sweating out a fever would be disappointing. It was fairly peculiar, though, because Kendall never fell ill. Usually Carlos was the one getting sick, like the time James bet him ten dollars to lick the door handle to the men's restroom at the local gas station. Afterwards, his temperature had climaxed at a hundred and three, and it was without question the most severe illness he had ever suffered through. But at least he got ten bucks out of it.

Logan was heard returning from Kendall's room a moment later. But the light footsteps padding the hall abruptly ceased. Carlos hardly noticed, too absorbed in gnawing on a pancake to bother to look up. From the corner of his eye, however, he noticed that James had rotated around in his chair, aiming to see why Logan was presumably paused in the entrance of the room.

"Mrs. Knight…"

There was something in Logan's voice that pricked goose bumps along Carlos's tan skin. He spat the half-chewed pancake from his mouth, the mush slopping on his plate with a wet smack. He whipped around, concerned by the low, shaky tone that Logan had choked out. Knitting his brow together in confusion, Carlos observed Logan, standing like a solitary statue, chocolate eyes sparkling with a soft, incredulous sadness. In his quivering hands was a page of notebook paper, which he held up for all to see. "Kendall's… gone."

Before the strange words had even registered in Carlos's brain, a sharp sound echoed through the apartment, making him leap a few inches off his chair. The plate in Mrs. Knight's hand had tumbled from her fingers and shattered on the floor into a hundred fragmented shards.

* * *

_I'm sorry, but I had to._

It was all the note said. Written in Kendall's trademark, heavy scrawl, filling up only the top few lines of the entire sheet. The white space below the pencil-written text was glaringly white and inexplicably chilling.

Mrs. Knight didn't believe it. Logan had shuffled slowly into the room, face paler than normal, to show the note up close to everyone around the table while she brushed past him to hustle to her son's evidently empty bedroom. Carlos, James and Katie all exchanged disconcerting glances as Logan approached them with the paper. All at once they inclined forward, huddling over the sheet to read the single sentence dashed across the page. Even Carlos, who had never picked up a book that wasn't for a school assignment, found himself unable to stop reading the note over and over again as his mind tried to piece together what was happening.

_I'm sorry, but I had to._

Katie broke the dense silence. "What do you mean, he's gone?"

Logan let the paper fall onto the table, taking a step back and running a nervous hand through his dark hair. "He's not in his room."

"Did he already get up before us?" Carlos thought aloud. He pushed away his breakfast and rose to stand by Logan, since he looked on the verge of freaking out. And Logan freaking out was never any fun, because he'd just start hyperventilating and then pass out from lack of oxygen, and Carlos didn't exactly feel like dealing with that today.

James snatched the note and clutched it tightly in his hands, Katie leaning over him to get a closer look. He flipped it over, saw nothing was written on the backside, then replaced it on the table. "So he's just… Not there?" he asked Logan for clarity.

Logan nodded. "His bed's made and stuff. The note was on his pillow."

"What's it mean?" Carlos wondered, referring to the note. He looked to Logan for an answer, but the smart boy could only shrug.

"Was he supposed to go somewhere today?" said Katie. Her eyebrows were narrowed as she thought the situation over.

"Just out for lunch with Jo," replied Logan, voice wavering slightly.

Carlos patted Logan's shoulder reassuringly, grinning lopsidedly. "Well, so he probably just decided to go catch breakfast with her instead."

"Yeah," James agreed, snapping his fingers like Carlos's answer was certain. He tapped the note. "And he's sorry because he didn't remember to tell us, and he had to because… Um…" He trailed off.

Carlos took over. "Because he has to make sacrifices for the woman in his life. Therefore he _had_ to go." He crossed his arms over his chest, proudly sticking out his chin. This must be what Logan feels like all the time. Well, except for now, of course.

James nodded and Katie shrugged, but Logan didn't seem as convinced.

Mrs. Knight then reappeared, eyes wide and hair tossed over her shoulders. The boys and Katie watched her carefully as she strode at a quick pace across the room. Her purse was laying on a hanger next to the door, and she hurriedly dug around for her cell phone.

Everyone gawked silently. Mrs. Knight pressed a speed-dial button on her phone before holding it up to her ear. She held her breath and stood perfectly motionless as the phone rang in the receiver. Carlos found his own body becoming tense as he awaited some movement.

"Honey, it's me," Mrs. Knight said into the phone. For a second Carlos thought she was actually talking to Kendall, but then she continued on and he realized she was just speaking to the voicemail. "Where are you? Call me back, okay?" She paused, then added, "I love you." Exceedingly slow, she lowered the phone and snapped it shut. Carlos watched her expectantly, wondering what she would do next. What was Kendall thinking, anyway? Leaving to go hang out with Jo or something without telling anyone? And Carlos always thought he was the idiot of the band.

"Boys," Mrs. Knight said quietly, turning to face the group. "Did Kendall mention anything about going somewhere? Other than his date with Jo?"

Everyone looked to one another, shaking their heads.

"Nothing? Nothing at all?" Mrs. Knight pressed.

"No," answered Logan. "He didn't say anything I remember."

Mrs. Knight wiped her palms over the thigh of her jeans, pursing her lips. For nearly a full minute she stayed like that, eyes glazing over with a sort of haze Carlos had never seen before on anyone. Visible signs of worry already spanned across Mrs. Knight's face, and it angered him. Carlos had always looked up to Kendall to be a trusted leader, then he goes and nearly gives his mom a heart attack? Oh, Carlos would chew Kendall out big time when he returned home. And maybe Jo was in on it, too. That would be a shame, because Carlos greatly enjoyed Jo's company. He hoped that Kendall would eventually get married to her and then the two could have little Kendall-Jo babies. Carlos mentioned that to Kendall once; Kendall had choked on his sandwich.

Mrs. Knight called her son a second time. When she received no answer, she faced the boys. "Go downstairs," she instructed. "Ask around, see if anyone has seen Kendall." She breathed a shaky sigh as the three boys obediently did as they were told, hopping out of their chairs and abandoning their morning meals.

"Mom?" said Katie. Her voice was laced with a fear Carlos had never heard her express before. He set his jaw as he followed Logan and James out of the apartment. Now Kendall was freaking Katie out. What a jerk. Making sacrifices for the girl in his life or not, frightening friends and family was not acceptable. …But didn't he already know that?

"Um, okay," Logan nervously huffed. The friends paused in the hall, shutting the door behind them. "I guess we better find Jo and Camille and Guitar Dude and anyone else Kendall hangs out with."

"Let's split up," James suggested. His hair, still damp, flopped over his forehead.

"Good idea," said Logan.

"I call pool and lobby," Carlos said, bouncing towards the elevators before anyone could object. He heard James place dibs on the park, leaving Logan to search the remainder of the Palm Woods.

Carlos stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor, whistling blithely as the door slid shut. He nearly forgot his assigned duty as he leaned casually against one of the interior walls of the small box, still humming a meaningless tune. But when the elevator descended and Carlos entered the lobby, he saw Jo sitting with Camille on one of the small loveseats and remembered that he was on a quest to beat up Kendall.

"Hi, Jo," Carlos greeted as he strolled over. "And Camille."

Jo smiled at him. "Hey, Carlos."

"What's up?" said Camille.

It was only a bit after eight o'clock, but both girls looked great and ready to take on the day. Carlos frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. It was so obvious that Jo's low ponytail, jeans and red blouse was breakfast-eating attire. "Have you seen Kendall?"

Jo looked him up and down, confused by Carlos's demanding posture. "Uh, no, not yet. He's supposed to meet me for lunch."

"Oh, really?" Carlos automatically rebuked. But when he took a moment to register her words, a sense of utter confoundedness washed through his body, and he straightened up. "Wait, what?"

Jo nodded slowly. "Yeah. We have a lunch date today. Why? Was he supposed to hang out with you or something?"

"No, no," said Carlos. He frowned, rubbing a hand over his hair. He had to think. Okay. So, Kendall wasn't in his room when Logan went to wake him up. There was a mysterious note on his pillow that read 'I'm sorry, but I had to', and Jo claimed to have not seen Kendall yet this morning. Gah. He hated thinking. Thinking was hard.

"Carlos, you okay?" Camille asked him, looking genuinely concerned. "You're a little pale."

Carlos shook away his perplexity and forced a bright smile. "What? No, I'm fine. I am so fine." He turned to Jo. "So, you haven't seen him at all this morning? Conversed with him? _Any_ interaction?"

"No, I haven't," she said. "Why? Is everything alright?"

"Um."

"Carlos."

"Ummm."

"Carlos!"

"Ummmmm!" He bolted away before the girls had a chance to pressure him further. He definitely didn't want to reveal anything to them until Kendall was located. For all he knew, Kendall had been enjoying the sunrise and was currently lounging by the pool.

A light bulb practically lit above Carlos's head. He darted out the side doors and emerged outside, eyes surveying the pool area. As it was early in the day, not many teens milled about. Not one body was in the pool, but a few figures sat sprawled around on chairs reading over magazines or scripts, some simply talking to one another. Carlos sucked in a deep breath and started forward, turning his head back and fourth, making sure to scan over every inch of the vicinity for his friend. He ended up making six unsuccessful laps around the pool, beginning to speak to various strangers on his fourth round. "Have you seen Kendall? Blond hair, weird eyebrows, yea tall? No?"

Carlos eventually retreated back to the lobby, poking his head around the corner to check for Camille or Jo. Thankfully, they were no were in sight. The Latino heaved a sigh and slumped in. He was just considering James and Logan's progress when a certain dark-haired boy emerged from the elevators.

"Hey," Logan said, quickly approaching Carlos. "Did you find him?"

Carlos shook his head. "No, but I saw Jo and Camille."

Logan's face brightened. "And?"

"And…" he started, cringing when he anticipated the disappointment on Logan's face. "No one's seen him."

Carlos was glad when James stumbled into the lobby just then, face rosy like he had been running. Logan immediately twirled around to the taller teen, but James told them all they needed to know before Logan had a chance to inquire about Kendall. "I looked _everywhere_," James panted. "I must have jogged around the park ten times. Please tell me you guys had better luck."

Carlos bit down on his lip and shared a glance with Logan. James's shoulders fell in defeat.

* * *

Two uniformed police officers were snooping about 2J by nine o'clock. Mrs. Knight was somewhere down the hall. She had followed the officers with a tissue balled in her hand and could be heard speaking quietly to one of the men. Meanwhile, the boys and Katie had seated themselves in a row on the large orange couch. Kendall's sister sat beside James, nervously fiddling with the hem of her shirt. On the other side of the taller boy was Logan, who leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and frequently gulped in large mouthfuls of air. And Carlos was beside him, his trusty helmet securely on his head and wondering what the heck was going on.

Truthfully, he did not fully understand why Mrs. Knight had phoned the police, but didn't want to ask. Kendall would probably be back from wherever he had decided to go before lunch to ensure his date with Jo was not missed. Why in the world would Mrs. Knight feel the need to get law enforcement involved?

The kids on the couch had fallen into uneasy silence. James, hair slightly wavy and unkempt from lack of grooming, stared towards the hall, intently watching for someone to emerge with news regarding the current situation. It wasn't until Katie spoke up that he tore his gaze away. "There's a lot of empty hangers in his closet."

For some reason, her words caused Logan to let out a tiny squeak from the back of his throat. Carlos quirked an eyebrow while James leaned forward to give Logan's knee a brotherly pat. A notion formed in Carlos's mind as to what Katie was implying, but he shoved it away, figuring that couldn't be the correct answer.

He was certainly more confused than frightened. And underneath all that was faint amusement as Carlos pictured how much trouble Kendall would find himself in when he came home to a house full of police officers.

James abruptly stood, and Carlos became aware that an officer was approaching them at long last. Katie and the remaining boys rose to their feet, sticking out their hands to introduce themselves.

"I'm David McNair," greeted the man, grabbing James's outstretched hand. "Nice to meet you."

James nodded. McNair went down the line, offering an exceptionally friendly smile to young Katie. He was a tall, lean man, closely resembling James in height and build. Deep brown eyes matched dark skin; handshake was firm and brisk. When everyone had revealed their names to the officer, McNair fished out a notepad and pen from the breast pocket of his sharp uniform.

Logan gulped. Being Carlos's own father was a cop, Carlos wasn't fazed by the man in the slightest. Police officers were good guys. He gave Logan's shoulder a gentle squeeze to tell him not to be intimidated.

"I'll need to ask you a few questions about Kendall, if that's alright," said McNair.

"Yeah, of course," Logan replied in an uneven voice.

McNair scribbled something onto his notepad, then spoke without looking up. "So you guys are friends of Kendall, huh?"

They all nodded. "We're in a band," James added.

"And I'm his sister," Katie said.

McNair bobbed his head up and down as he wrote. Carlos stood on his tiptoes in attempts to catch a glimpse of what the man was scrawling, but was unsuccessful. McNair gestured to the guys with his pen. "How long have you known Kendall?"

The boys looked to one another, trying to figure who would answer. Logan, ultimately, spoke up. "All of us have known each other since preschool," he said. He cleared his throat. "And we've been living together for over a year now."

"So you're close," McNair remarked.

"Brothers," Logan said without pause. He must have been embarrassed by his impulsive words, as two pink circles colored his pale cheeks while he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. Carlos didn't apprehend why Logan was so ill at ease.

The officer ceased speaking for a moment. His pen had stilled on the page as his steely eyes traveled across the three boys. The gaze was not in any way daunting, but instead almost sympathetic. "How would you describe Kendall?" he finally asked.

"He's…," James started, fumbling for a word. "Awesome."

"And nice," Carlos put in. "And cool."

The officer stared at them. "I'm going to need a bit more than that."

Logan rolled his eyes at his two friends and complied with McNair's request. "Kendall is a very loyal friend," said Logan. "He never turns his back on us."

"He helps us all the time," James said. "He gets us out of trouble."

"He's kind of like our straightjacket," Carlos chirped. Everyone turned to look at him, giving Carlos a questionable look. "Yeah, you know," Carlos explained. "He keeps us from hurting ourselves. And each other." He stopped, then added, "Usually."

"So you guys fight a lot?" wondered McNair, beginning to write.

"No," Logan quickly replied. "No, that's not what Carlos meant. He just meant that Kendall is… Well, he's like the leader of our group."

"Yeah, what he said." Carlos didn't want to give the man the wrong impression. The officer took a pause. Carlos shifted his weight to one side, then back again, growing impatient.

Officer McNair asked many more questions. Some were about Kendall's relationship with Jo and his mother, and some were about Big Time Rush's work schedule and how things played out at Rocque Records. Then McNair questioned if Kendall had recently given away any possessions. Carlos failed to grasp how that was pertinent to the situation, but Logan must have understood, because his voice was grim as he replied, "Absolutely not." When McNair inquired any strange happenings regarding the missing boy, James and Logan went on to explain how Kendall had claimed to be sick the night before, and retired to bed earlier than normal. Carlos had nearly forgotten about that. He figured Kendall probably wasn't sick anymore, or else he wouldn't have left to go wherever it was that he went.

McNair closed his notepad and replaced it in his front pocket. He thanked the boys for their time.

Katie, who had been mostly quiet, spoke up. "Wait. So where are you going?"

"I need to check up on my crew," McNair replied.

So, the four plopped back down on the couch and waited some more as McNair turned down the hallway where Mrs. Knight and the other officer still remained. Carlos's attention span was growing especially thin. He sighed and leaned back in the cushions, propping his feet up on the coffee table. At one point Logan leaned over and gave him a scolding look. What for, Carlos did not know.

A third police officer entered the apartment. She slipped inside and immediately headed towards the hall, not even sending an acknowledging glance their way. Only a few minutes of tedious sitting later, soft sobs were heard.

Carlos, James and Logan all shared knowing glances. They looked down at Katie. She either was unaware of Mrs. Knight's crying, or pretended not to hear. Either way, James looped an arm around her shoulder. Katie didn't move.

Carlos's heart began to pound a little faster as he straightened himself up. A strong desire to sprint to the other room to give Mrs. Knight a huge hug thumped in his chest, but he was petrified to the spot. What was making her cry?

His question was answered soon. McNair strode into the main room of 2J, holding up a hand when the boys were about to stand. McNair stopped in front of them. He had a look on his face that Carlos knew too well. It was the same expression his father wore when he recounted tragic tales regarding a case he had worked on.

McNair started slowly. "Mrs. Knight has confirmed that at least three pairs of pants and four shirts are missing from Kendall's closet, as well as several other articles of clothing." He stopped, eyeing Logan as he shivered. "And a goodbye note was allegedly discovered on his pillow this morning."

"What are you saying?" James whispered.

Carlos whipped his head to the officer. McNair sighed. "We've checked out the security footage in the hall from last night. Kendall Knight left the apartment at midnight with a backpack over his shoulders."

Carlos gasped. Kendall had been gone for nine hours?

"So what are you saying?" James asked again, sterner.

Officer McNair took a short moment to prepare his words. His serious face relaxed, features becoming more soft. "I'm sorry. But it seems to us that Kendall has run away."

At the officer's words, realization hit Carlos like a pancake to the face.


	4. Intuition

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! And this chapter isn't even that long, either. I had some pretty bad writer's block for a while. I had to really push myself to get this chapter done, and I actually ended it at a point where I was not planning to end it. Therefore the next chapter may come out a little long. Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing and sticking with me! I really appreciate it. Bear with me on this chapter, folks.**

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Chapter 4  
Intuition

Apartment 2J was utterly silent. The abnormal lack of noise made James's body feel heavy and stiff, like a thick, unnerving cloud had settled upon him. His heart thumped with trepidation, and the fear that something had happened to Kendall was eating him alive.

It was just after eleven o'clock. McNair and the other officers had departed a while ago, McNair taking with him a recent photo of Kendall to enter into the city's database of runaways, as well as placing his card on the table. He informed there wasn't much to be done, as many kids leave home every day. But there was an assurance to his words, however, when he mentioned an estimated seventy-seven percent of runaways return in less than a week. He advised Mrs. Knight to call all friends and relatives Kendall may turn to, and to drive around town and check all the places Kendall goes to relax or hang out.

Mrs. Knight somehow managed to fight away her tears for sake of the boys and Katie, but it was clear by the way she nervously wrung her hands together and never ceased pacing the floor that she was severely agitated. It wasn't long after McNair and his team left that Mrs. Knight gave each the boys a kiss on the head and told them she was going to take her car and go search around town for Kendall. Katie practically begged to come with, and Mrs. Knight eventually complied, apologetically leaving the boys home alone. James thought Katie was remaining surprisingly calm regarding her brother's absence, but he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Gustavo and Kelly had yet to be notified of the current state of affairs. Though James didn't doubt they were suspicious, as Mrs. Knight had called Rocque Records twice asking if Kendall was there, and was most probably on her way to search the entire building top to bottom herself. Jo was also in the dark. She would be waiting downstairs for Kendall at about noon, undoubtedly knocking on the apartment door when he failed to show. James dreaded to see the look on her face.

He shifted his eyes to his two friends. Neither had moved in an hour. Carlos laid upside down on the far end with his legs propped against the back of the couch, helmet strapped tightly around his head. In the center of the orange sofa was Logan, who was slumped almost in defeat, his body leaning deeply into the thick cushions. James knew they were all thinking the same thing. But no one wanted to say it. Maybe if they kept quiet, the situation would solve itself like it normally did.

Kendall Knight was the unspoken leader of Big Time Rush. For as long as James could remember, Kendall was the one bailing them out of trouble, offering encouraging words when a somber situation fell upon them, going out of his way to try to help them. Then he just leaves? It didn't make any sense. That was not the Kendall Knight James knew. Kendall Knight wouldn't just abandon his precious baby sister, his mother, and his best friends. He wouldn't. _He wouldn't._

A stray piece of hair tumbled down across James's forehead. He reached up and brushed it away with a swipe of his hand; the first time he'd moved in what felt like forever. He realized then that he had completely forgotten to blow-dry, comb, add mousse, and apply hairspray to his handsome locks yet this morning. Kendall's mysterious absence had distracted him from his daily routine.

"Was it us?" Logan whispered.

His voice snapped James to attention. He turned to his forlorn friend, taking careful note of the glassy shine in Logan's eyes and the way he stared unblinkingly at the floor. Even Carlos rotated his helmet-clad head, the sudden interruption of the silence shaking him from his own thoughts.

"Was it something we did?" Logan asked to no one in particular, voice hushed and laced with hurt. "Or something we didn't do?"

The questions were perhaps rhetorical, but James answered regardless. "No."

Logan finally shifted positions, sitting up a bit straighter and rubbing away the unshed tears welling in his dreary eyes. He sniffled, shaking his head. "How do you know?"

James pursed his lips. "Because," he said, simply. "Kendall wouldn't do that."

"Kendall wouldn't run away, either," Logan murmured bitterly. Resentment suddenly replaced sadness. "But he did."

"But, why?" Carlos spoke up.

Logan looked at him, but Carlos didn't return the gaze. He stared up at the ceiling, puffing out his cheeks in a nonchalant manner, as if the seriousness of what was happening hadn't quite connected with him. Logan frowned. "It had to be because of us."

"Logan, if he left because of us he wouldn't have apologized!" James snapped, more harshly than he intended.

Logan jumped slightly, and James immediately regretted raising his voice. He sighed and opened his mouth to tell Logan he was sorry, but was cut off by the smaller boy's angry retort. "What are you talking about?" Logan growled. "How can you possibly start defending him when we don't even know what's going on?"

James raised his eyebrows. "How can you start _accusing_ him when we don't know what's going on?" he shot back.

Sensing an argument, Carlos flopped over on the couch, at last pulling himself upright to sit on his bottom. "Okay!" he declared, offering an optimistic grin. "How about we all just agree to disagree?"

Logan stood from the couch, placing both hands on his head and pacing slowly in a circle. "Shut up, Carlos," he muttered. "You don't even know what that means."

"Hey!" Carlos then rose too, face reddening and goofy smile vanishing instantaneously. He sounded genuinely offended. "I do too know what that means." He marched up to Logan. "And you know what else I know? That just because you're so smart doesn't mean you're right all the time."

Logan spun around to face him. "What are you talking about?"

Carlos stuck a finger out at the teen still on the couch. "I'm with James on this one," he said, quieter.

At the mention of his name, James hopped up as well, standing next to his friends in the middle of the living room. He didn't exactly want to argue, but he was going to defend Kendall as well as he could. It was reasonable for Logan to feel betrayed by Kendall's actions, but it was totally unreasonable for Logan to start jumping to such off-putting conclusions. James himself was beginning to feel betrayed - by Logan.

"What?" Logan asked Carlos incredulously, holding both hands out at his sides. "Why? How can you two be so casual about this? Kendall _ran away_." He then whipped around to James, making sure the boys knew he was talking to both of them. "Kendall's always saying how we need to have each others' backs and never give up on each other, and then he just walks out and leaves?"

"Yeah, just think about that, Logan," said James, maintaining a firm tone. "Does that sound like the Kendall you know?"

"No," Logan replied flatly.

"Exactly." James realized his ideas were emerging as he spoke, so he continued talking. "We all know that Kendall wouldn't just leave. He had to have some deep purpose. Something that he couldn't tell us. There has to be another reason."

"Like what!" Logan shouted, tossing up his hands in frustration. "What sort of purpose? Huh?" Tears sprang back into his eyes, chest heaved up and down.

"I don't know yet!" James exclaimed, matching the volume of Logan's voice. But there had to be something. There _had_ to. Kendall wouldn't leave on selfish grounds. He definitely wasn't that sort of person. He was caring and thoughtful, putting friends and family before everyone else in his life, including himself. He wouldn't betray everyone by walking out.

Unless he had to.

"Maybe he had to go save the world," Carlos chirped with an unconcerned shrug. It was obviously an attempt to lighten the mood, but Logan found no mirth.

He spun around on his heel. "This isn't a joke, Carlos!" Before James could intervene, Logan had reached out and delivered a hard shove to Carlos's shoulders, causing the Latino to stumble backwards in surprise.

"Hey!" James cried, stepping in front of Logan. "Cool it, man!"

Logan glowered for a moment, then closed his eyes and inhaled a breath, fists unclenching at his sides. James looked over his shoulder to see if Carlos was readying himself to fight back, but, strangely, he wasn't. His bottom lip trembled and innocent eyes clouded with hurt. He gingerly rubbed a hand over the area Logan had hit, face scrunching up as if fighting off sudden emotion.

The silence had returned, aside from the light sniffling of Carlos. James's own throat tightened from repressed sadness as he lowered his hands, feeling the tension fizzle out of the room. It was distressing to see Carlos become so upset. He was never one to back down from a fight, not even a dispute between friends. In fact, he was frequently the one causing the arguments or the wrestling matches or the fistfights. He was a tough guy. But Logan's push must have had a deeper affect.

Logan finally spoke to James. His voice was low, but the ire remained subtlety present. "There's another reason?"

James looked him straight in the eye as he answered. "Yes."

"Then give me one," said Logan, holding up a finger. "One reason."

James blinked slowly. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a small croak came out. A reason. Come on, Diamond, think. What sort of selfless reason could Kendall have for leaving? There had to be something. Anything.

Why couldn't he think of one?

"Alright," Logan whispered with a dejected nod. He said not another word, brushing past James. He paused in front of Carlos, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. Carlos answered with a small bob of his head, showing his acceptance of the silent apology.

"Hey," James called when Logan proceeded walking. "Logan, hey. Where are you going?"

Carlos's eyes widened. "Logan?"

Logan approached the front door, one hand reaching for the handle. "I just need to take a walk," he murmured.

"No!" Carlos cried, rushing forward. "No, don't leave, Logan, _please_."

The pale boy turned, narrowing his eyes in confusion at his friend's desperate pleas. "I just need to clear my head for a while, okay?" he said, gently.

James followed Carlos as the Latino darted up to Logan, snatching the sleeve of his polo shirt. "Don't," Carlos begged, voice cracking. "Please don't go, okay? Please."

"Carlos -"

"You can't run away too!" he yelled with a sob.

James froze. And from what he could see, Logan's muscles tensed as well. Carlos looked down at his feet as he willed his unwanted tears away, Logan taking the opportunity to sneak a worried glance at James. The taller boy gulped, feeling like a jagged nail had been thrust deep into his heart.

"Okay," Logan said, voice nearly a whisper. "I'm not going anywhere." He removed his hands from the door and gave Carlos an affectionate slap on the back and squeeze to the shoulder. Carlos bit down on his lower lip and refused to lift his gaze, but nonetheless nodded, slowly.

Logan heaved a sigh, pushing a hand through his hair. James began to pace the floor in the living room. They had only discovered Kendall gone three hours ago, and already they were quarreling and at a loss of what to do. They needed Kendall's guidance.

"Look," Logan said after a long pause. "Can we just…" He trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose, flustered. "Can we just sit down and talk about this?"

"Yeah, okay," James said. His voice caught in his throat, so he coughed to clear it. He shuffled to the kitchen table and pulled up a chair next to Carlos, who plopped down across from Logan.

Logan folded his hands and rested them on the surface of the table. He was trembling slightly, James noticed. Whether it was from fear or from unreleased vexation, he was not sure.

"So…" the smaller boy started. "Your theory is that Kendall ran away because of some significant purpose?"

James looked to Carlos. The two replied simultaneously. "Yes."

"But you can't think of an example?" said Logan, quirking an eyebrow in that patronizing way he frequently showed off when he knew he was right.

"…No," admitted James.

"Hmm." Logan rapped his knuckles on the table. "Well. I disagree."

"In regards to what?" James challenged. Beside him, Carlos crossed his arms over his chest, already fully recovered from his brief interval of panic. It was not surprising. Carlos's emotions could be flipped on and off like a switch.

"Logic," Logan said.

Carlos snorted and rolled his eyes. "Why do you have to be so logical all the time?" he asked. "Why can't you be unlogical for once?"

"Illogical," Logan corrected. He let out a startled yelp when Carlos reached across the table to smack the side of Logan's head. "Ow, hey!" he exclaimed, swatting away Carlos's hand. "I'm just being realistic here. This isn't a science fiction movie, okay? Kendall isn't running around trying to 'save the world' right now." He stopped to let the words sink in for all of them. "Don't you think it makes more sense to assume Kendall was sick of living in LA? We all love it here, so maybe he didn't want to tell us and hurt our feelings. Or maybe he was too stressed out about everything that's going on? Sudden fame can do that to a person, you know."

"If that was the case he would have talked to us about it," James said before Logan had a chance to rant on. After all, Kendall was always urging the guys to sit down and talk about their problems when he discovered something troublesome had evolved. Surely if something was bothering Kendall, he'd have enough sense to discuss it with one of the guys.

Carlos abruptly pushed his chair away from the table, sliding out and getting to his feet. James watched confusedly as Carlos strolled into the kitchen and dug around in a box on the counter.

"Seriously?" said Logan, making a face.

Carlos removed a chocolate doughnut from the container. "What? I'm hungry." He leaned his elbows against the tabletop and stuffed the squishy bread into his mouth, chewing noisily.

"Well," James said, getting back on subject, "wherever Kendall is and whatever he's doing, we need to bring him home."

"Yeah, okay, and how do you plan on doing that?" Logan asked, turning his attention away from the Latino in the kitchen.

James shrugged. He didn't exactly know the answer to Logan's question, but he did know he would do anything in his power to help his friend. Kendall would do the same thing for them.

"Ooh," said Carlos, mumbling through a mouthful his snack. "We could search his room."

James's eyes lit up. "Yes!" He slapped his palm on the table. "There might be a clue in there that says where he's going. Like another note, or something."

Chocolate smudged around Carlos's mouth as he nodded vigorously in approval.

Logan didn't seem as convinced. "The cops already searched his room, genius."

"Yeah, but maybe they missed something," said Carlos. He strode back to the table, leaning on the back of Logan's chair. "My dad's a cop. He says they screw up all the time."

"…That's comforting to know," Logan muttered under his breath.

"Besides," continued James. "We know Kendall better than anybody. If there is a clue, we'll probably be able to notice it." He paused, both eager boys looking to Logan expectantly for some sort of confirmation. Carlos tapped his foot, discernibly impatient. As Logan was busy trying to vocalize a response by opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, the teen with the helmet finally gave up on waiting.

"Let's goooo!" he cried excitedly, making a beeline for the hall. His heavy footsteps soon disappeared as he presumably raced into Kendall's bedroom.

James stood as well, ready to follow Carlos. "Let's go," he repeated with a smirk.

Logan heaved a sigh. "Fine. I guess I don't have much of a choice, anyway."

"Why's that?"

"Because Carlos is in Kendall's room. Alone."

James frowned. Logan had a point; Carlos's destructive tendencies appeared more commonly when he was without supervision.

As if on cue, a loud _crash bang clang boom _echoed from down the hall. Logan and James exchanged knowing glances before Logan rolled his eyes and darted away to make sure Carlos hadn't annihilated Kendall's bedroom in the eleven seconds he had entered. James hurried after him, skidding down the small hall and into the first door on the right.

Carlos was sprawled out on his back, arms and legs splayed across the beige carpet. All the items lining Kendall's dresser top had fallen and scattered every which way across the floor. Carlos twitched.

"Dude!" Logan exclaimed. He grabbed a hold of Carlos's arm and forcibly yanked him to his feet, giving his helmet a slap. "How did you even - ?"

James cut him off, cringing. "It's best not to question it."

Carlos blinked blearily, tottering slightly on his feet. He shook his head back and fourth in attempts to literally shake himself out of his dazed state. His wide eyes scanned over the mess he had made, then shifted over to the guys when Logan released his hold on Carlos's arm. "Oops…" Carlos murmured.

James stifled a snicker.

"Just pick this stuff up," muttered Logan. He lowered himself down onto the edge of Kendall's bed. He did it cautiously, as if he was afraid of wrinkling the comforter. James understood that Logan would be wary to intrude on Kendall's personal space, but it wasn't like he was dead or something. When Kendall came back he could rearrange all the items the guys made untidy.

Carlos gazed around the room. "Where'd my doughnut go?" he asked.

James shrugged, focusing his attention on searching for something that could possibly lead them to some answers about Kendall. He was secure in mind that the blond had a real, sincere reason for leaving. The notion didn't necessarily ease his fears, though, as James figured Kendall must have been in some trouble if he felt like he needed to leave.

As Carlos abandoned his quest to locate his missing doughnut, James wandered to Kendall's closet. McNair had said there were several articles of clothing missing from Kendall's room. Curious, James approached Kendall's closet door and pulled it open, being greeted with a colorful range of plaid and denim. Sure enough, there were several bare hangers dangling in the center of the rack, noticeably out of place. Frowning, James dropped to his hands and knees, thoroughly scouring the floor for anything suspicious.

"Hey," Carlos said from behind with a tiny laugh. "I didn't know Kendall had this picture in his room."

James crawled out just enough to see what Carlos was referring to. The Latino held out a frame which he had recovered from the dispersed items on the ground.

"Let me see," said Logan. Carlos turned around to do just that, and James went back to pushing aside Kendall's smelly hockey bag and pairs of neglected tennis shoes. He fought away the smile on his face as he remembered what had occurred when that snapshot had been taken. It was a picture of all the guys when they were ten. They were up high, riding on the Ferris wheel at the state fair. Little Logan was near-tears and clutching onto Kendall's arm, since Carlos kept rocking the seat and teasing him that they would fall and die. Said Latino had one hand up in a wave, grinning cheekily. Kendall, on the other hand, was simply wearing a smiling face for the camera; immediately before and after the picture had been taken he was busy scolding Carlos while simultaneously doing his best to prevent Logan from having an anxiety attack. And James merely had an arm draped around Carlos's shoulders, flashing the camera a dazzling display of his pearly whites.

"Nothing in the closet," James murmured, pulling himself to his feet. He brushed more hair from his eyes, for once in his life not the least bit concerned that it would take hours of intense styling to revert the unruly locks to its normal, silky luster.

"This is pointless," Logan muttered. "If Kendall left something, the police would have found it."

"Unless they didn't know it was a clue," Carlos pointed out.

Carlos's rare show of intellect made Logan fall back to silence. The boy sitting on the bed observed Carlos carefully as Carlos straightened the items on the top Kendall's dresser with careful precision.

Seeing Logan gave James an idea. He crossed the room and pushed Logan's feet out of the way, getting down on all fours to peer underneath the bed. When James was younger, he always found that particular spot to be the best place for hiding things he didn't want his parents to see.

James sighed, partly in disappointment, partly in annoyance. "Carlos, I found your doughnut." Sure enough, the only thing under Kendall's bed was Carlos's half-eaten snack, along with a few balls of dust.

"Eh, just leave it," Carlos said.

James picked himself off the floor, ignoring Logan when he chided Carlos for abandoning food in Kendall's room. James hopped up on the mattress, intending to use his fingernail to pry out the thumbtack that pinned up Kendall's Minnesota Wild poster to the wall. When James succeeded, he pulled back a corner and searched for anything taped underneath. He found nothing.

"Hey, look!" Carlos exclaimed. James whipped around as a surge of excitement jolted through him. But his hopes were dashed when Carlos held up a small, purple square. "Kendall has a whole pack of gum just laying here." He popped the treat into his mouth before going back to snooping around in the top drawer of the dresser.

"Dude," Logan said, "don't eat Kendall's gum."

All James heard from Logan's mouth was, _nag nag nag._

Carlos shrugged, tossing the pack of gum back into the drawer, though still chomping loudly.

Meanwhile, James approached Kendall's desk. The top was littered with pencils and pens and various school assignments with scores scrawled out on the top. James examined each sheet carefully, hoping to find some sort of message Kendall had left that provided an answer to his whereabouts. Unfortunately, he found nothing but a few bad grades.

"It would help if I knew what I was looking for," James said to himself.

"Here's something," Carlos piped up. He held up a metal lunchbox which he had retrieved from inside the dresser. "Kendall usually keeps about two hundred bucks in here. And it's all gone."

Logan raised his dejected gaze from the floor. "How do you know Kendall keeps two hundred bucks in there?"

"Uh." Carlos quickly stuffed the box back in its home and slammed the door shut. "Lucky guess?" The drawer closed with such a force that it rattled the entire piece of furniture, sending a few items toppling behind the dresser. Carlos groaned.

James laughed at his friend's misfortune. Logan just rolled his eyes. It always annoyed James how serious and boring Logan could become when he was in one of his pessimistic moods. If Logan could learn to be a little more positive, he could be laughing with James instead of fretting himself sick. What good would worrying do, anyway?

Carlos fell to his knees on the carpet, reaching back behind the dresser to retrieve a fallen stick of deodorant. James was about to start a search of the drawers in Kendall's desk, when Carlos popped up again. "Guys…"

At the Latino's words, even Logan sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes in curiosity at what Carlos had produced. It wasn't the deodorant stick; it was a slip of paper, about the third of the size of an index card. Carlos's eyes scanned it over several times.

"What is it?" James asked eagerly.

Carlos turned to him and grinned jubilantly. "Found something."


	5. Checkmate

**A/N: For some reason my email was not giving me alerts to reviews. So I was trying to respond to you guys by private message here on the site, but some I was not able to send a message to, and others I think I forgot. Oops! For those of you I did not reply to last chapter, THANK YOU. I really appreciate your feedback. It means a lot to me. And my lack of a thank you message was in no way intentional. FFN claims to have fixed the problem now, so hopefully it won't happen again.**

**Also, regarding this chapter, did anyone remember the address slip from chapter 2? I only mentioned it once. Hehe. And keep in mind I am in no way associated or affiliated with the websites mentioned in this (_extremely _long) chapter.**

**Warnings: Some angst. And naked Logan. :o (For comedic effect).**

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Chapter 5  
Checkmate

Logan stood beside James, both boys huddling over Carlos's shoulder to get a better look at the small slip of paper. "It's an address," Logan observed. Written in sloppy red ink, scribbled hurriedly across the card. 1702 Weylin Road.

"That doesn't sound familiar," Carlos said, narrowing his eyes.

James was practically beaming with enthusiasm. "And you found this mysterious address behind Kendall's dresser?" he asked Carlos for confirmation.

"Yeah," replied the Latino.

James snapped his fingers together, then pointed to Logan as if to say 'I told you so.' "Then this has to be where Kendall is!" he cried.

Carlos bounced up and down, clutching the paper in his hand. "Yeah!"

"We have to call Officer McNair!"

"Yeah!"

"Woah," said Logan, cutting off their merriment. He took a breath as Carlos stilled himself and James's grin dropped. This was all happening too quickly. They had only realized Kendall was gone a few hours ago, and now suddenly James and Carlos thought they knew where he was? The police - who were _professionals _in the investigative department - had already done a sweep of Kendall's room. And James and Carlos certainly didn't possess the same intellect as a trained officer of the law. "Hang on a second," Logan told the two. "Let's just think about this for a minute."

"We might not have a minute," James countered. He snatched the paper from Carlos and stuck it in Logan's face. "Kendall left us an address. This practically proves it, Logan. We have to call Officer McNair and have him investigate it!"

Logan swatted James's hand away, scowling. "All this proves is that you guys have a knack for jumping to conclusions." Both James and Carlos opened their mouths to protest, but Logan spoke over them. "And let me point out everything wrong with what you just said." He leaned forward, taking the paper from James. "First of all, we don't know if Kendall _left_ us this address. It might have been on top of his dresser and fallen behind when Carlos knocked down all that stuff. It's probably just the address to… Rocque Records, or something."

Logan knew his example wasn't very strong, and Carlos immediately pointed it out. "Come on, this isn't the address to Rocque Records," he said with a roll of his eyes. He grabbed the small card from Logan, and Logan suddenly felt like he had been thrust into a game of hot potato. "This is probably where Kendall ran away to."

"Yeah," James agreed, crossing his arms.

Logan sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He pitied James and Carlos; they were just looking for a way to justify Kendall's leaving.

The year before the four left to become a band in Los Angeles, Logan had taken a psychology class in school. It was a very enjoyable and informative class, and it was there he studied the Kübler-Ross model, more commonly known as the five stages of grief. Granted, Kendall was just missing, not exactly stricken with a terminal illness or dead. But nonetheless he was _gone_. Denial was the first stage, and James and Carlos were the epitomes. They refused to believe that Kendall was _human_. That things stressed him out just like things stress out other normal people. For whatever reason, Kendall thought there was no other way to escape his busy and intense environment - so he left.

It only made sense. What other reason would he have for leaving?

Such knowledge worried Logan to no end. It also frustrated him. Because not only did Logan look up to Kendall, but he trusted Kendall more than any person in the world. Kendall never gave Logan a reason _not_ to trust him. The blond retained a salient amount willpower and determination, was resilient even in the most dismal situations, and stuck true to his word, which included never breaking a promise.

Kendall's leaving was like a cold knife in Logan's back, wedged in so deep that the blood had yet to begin flowing.

And Logan was very aware of the second stage of grief: anger. But taking his exasperation out on James and Carlos was certainly not going to help the situation. So, Logan heaved a second sigh in attempts to calm his jittery nerves, and spoke low. "Let's just look it up."

"Yes!" Carlos exclaimed. "We'll Google it! The Internet has the answers to everything!" He and James high-fived in victory.

"And," added James, "if it's something weird, then we can call McNair!"

Logan shook his head and chuckled lightly when James and Carlos began to spontaneously dance in the middle of Kendall's bedroom, chanting various exclamations of success.

"There you are."

All three teens emitted a girlish yelp at the sound of Katie's voice. Logan and James instantly whipped around to the young girl at the door. Carlos, in a blur of panic, shoved the paper into his mouth to conceal it from sight. It was actually pretty smart thinking to hide the slip from Katie, and Logan mentally congratulated the helmet-wearing boy. He just hoped Carlos remembered not to swallow.

Katie narrowed her eyes in suspicion, obviously noting Carlos's puffed out cheeks and overly-exaggerated nonchalant composure; one hand was on his hip, the other resting awkwardly on James's shoulder. "Why are you guys in Kendall's room?" said Katie. "Mom's freaking out."

"Oh, you know," Logan said, mind racing for an excuse. "We were just, um… Looking… for Kendall."

"…In his room?" She was wearing her famous and all too common 'you guys are such idiots and I can't believe I hang out with you' expression.

"Yeah," James said with a forced laugh, "silly us. Hey, so, did you find him when you drove around town?"

Katie frowned. "What do you think?"

Her cynicism had more of a sad undertone than anything, and Logan had the urge to take her in his arms and hug her and tell her everything would be okay. But at that moment, following a brief interval of silence that had descended over the room, Mrs. Knight's voice was heard calling from the main room of the apartment. "Katie, did you find them?"

"Yeah," Katie called back. "They're in here."

Quick footsteps were heard as soon as Katie's words were spoken, and Mrs. Knight rushed in, immediately exhaling in relief when her bloodshot eyes fell upon the three boys standing somewhat roguishly in the center of the bedroom. "Oh, thank goodness," she breathed, voice cracking. "When we walked in I didn't see you anywhere, and I thought maybe…" She trailed off as tears began to form. "Sorry," Mrs. Knight murmured, turning away with a sob.

Logan's heart nearly broke. Mrs. Knight was such a strong woman, and to see her in tears felt like a hard punch to the stomach. Logan reached out as she spun away from the door, desiring to offer some words of comfort, but being unable. He couldn't even begin to imagine the fear coursing through her body.

When Logan was seven, he had gotten lost in the grocery store. When he had been found aimlessly wandering the cereal aisle, Mrs. Mitchell grabbed his hand and told him that until he had kids of his own, Logan would never understand the terror a parent feels when they are unable to locate their child.

At the unfathomable alarm of Kendall's mother, Carlos and James - the former of whom still retaining abnormally round and inflated cheeks - exchanged concerned glances and also moved as if wishing to provide some sort of solace to the woman who acted as a second maternal figure to them.

Katie stuck out a hand to stop them. "I'll go," she said, quietly. But then she halted, her chocolate eyes casting down to the carpet. Logan knew she always despised being treated as the 'little sister', even though she was six years younger than the boys. At about the time she turned five years old, Katie was more welcomed to play with her older brother and his friends, thus picking up her like for videogames, sports, gambling, fighting, spitting, and general mischief commonly associated with rambunctious little boys. She was a tough kid. To see Katie's eyes - which could either make Logan shiver from a piercing glare or make his heart melt from a pleading pout - full of sparkling tears, was equally painful to witness as Mrs. Knight's emotion. "Do you think… that Kendall is okay?" Katie asked slowly, not looking up.

He wasn't sure how to answer. Maybe because he didn't _know _the answer. And that knowledge in itself had Logan's frustration creeping up on him yet again, because he was supposed to be the smart one of the group. He was _supposed_ to have the answers. The guys always turned to him when they needed help planning some devious scheme, needed to pass algebra, or when they were plainly curious about some statistic or seemingly useless piece of information Logan just so happened to possess.

Carlos was unable to reply due to the address slip in his mouth, and while Logan was looking like an idiot while fumbling for a response, James was the one who ultimately spoke up. "I'm sure he's fine, Katie."

His words were so simple. They weren't even factual. But Katie nodded, then turned and left the room, wiping away the tears hindering her vision while still offering a light smile.

Even when she had disappeared from sight, Logan stared off into the hall. He could say it in his head. He could even say it out loud: _Kendall ran away_. But still, he doubted if the words had actually registered in full with his brain. The deep, sinking pit that never failed to sit in his stomach when tragedy befell was only at a dull ache, and tears that had formed when arguing with James and Carlos in the living room had subsided and likely weren't going to return anytime soon.

Carlos suddenly let out a noisy cough. He gagged and spat into the palm of his hand, causing James to cringe at the noise. "Uh oh," said Carlos. He frowned as he lifted the moist slip of paper with his thumb and index finger. A wet, purple glob clung to one side.

Logan groaned. He forgot Carlos had taken a piece of gum from the pack he had discovered in Kendall's dresser drawer. Yet he watched in amusement as Carlos attempted to peel the sticky substance from the paper. When most of it had been removed, he popped the gum back into his mouth, much to Logan's disgust.

Carlos neatly unfolded the paper and held it up for the guys to see. "This isn't even Kendall's handwriting."

It was true. Like Kendall's, the penmanship was messy, but several distinctions alerted Logan to the fact that Kendall was not the author. And now a purple stain smudged one corner of the paper.

"You know what we should do?" asked James, which may have well been rephrased as, "You know what I'm going to do whether you agree with me or not?"

"What?" said Logan.

James put a hand on Carlos's shoulder, as if reminding Logan that James had the Latino's support. "We need to type this up on the computer."

"I thought we already established this," Logan said.

Both James and Carlos appeared surprised. "So you're in?" Carlos asked Logan.

Logan shrugged. He had to admit he was curious to know what this address was, regardless if he believed it was a supposed clue to Kendall's whereabouts or not. "Yeah. But we'll have to come up with a way to sneak downstairs. Mrs. Knight probably has us on lockdown."

"Okay," said Carlos, "then what do we do?"

Logan took only a couple seconds to conjure up a plan. "One of us can just stay up here and keep her busy until the others get back. Besides, Mrs. Knight probably needs someone to be by her, anyway."

There was a short pause among them, neither boy looking up at one another, but rather keeping their gazes set at their feet. Carlos finally handed the address to James and declared he would stay at the apartment, claiming he was the best at cheering people up. Which, actually, was true.

Mrs. Knight's bedroom door was closed with Katie presumably inside, so it was easy for Logan and James to walk out of 2J. James still held the slip of paper tightly in his hands as the two stepped into the elevator and descended to the lobby of the Palm Woods. It was about eleven thirty, and as the doors slid open and the boys came to their destination, Logan remembered that Jo would soon be downstairs waiting for Kendall to show up for their lunch date. His heart beat a bit faster at the realization, but calmed when his eyes did a quick scan of the lobby and found no Jo in sight.

James practically jogged to the computer, which was vacant, and pulled up the rolling chair. He was already opening a browser window and typing a web address before Logan was hovering over his shoulder to study the monitor.

"Alright," James said aloud as he typed. "I'll just punch this into Google and see what it comes up with." He was especially dramatic and animated upon hitting the enter key, and even more eager when a result appeared at the top of the page.

Logan raised an eyebrow. James whooped victoriously and clicked on the link. As the page loaded, Logan held his breath, not knowing what, exactly, to expect. The logo for MapQuest appeared at the top of the page, followed by a large picture of the United States. There were a few little flags marking the matches to the information James had typed in. One purple indicator was in Utah, one in Vermont, one in Michigan, and one in California near the Oregon border. James glanced back at Logan.

"Click on it," urged Logan.

James smirked and complied. On 1702 Weylin Road in the town of Warrick, California, was a bakery.

Logan sighed and dropped his head. But James seemed the opposite of discouraged. "Yes!" he shouted, pumping a fist in the air. "I knew we'd figure it out! Everyone knows that bakeries are the universal sign of evil!"

Logan stared at him for a moment before deadpanning, "What?"

"Yeah, yeah," said James, practically bouncing in the chair in his excitement. He gestured furiously to the monitor. "This must be where Kendall's at. He fled town because some evil baker guy was making him! A bakery, Logan, it's a bakery! A _bakery_!"

Logan almost laughed, but he held it back. This is exactly what he meant when he mentioned that James and Carlos had a frequent tendency to jump to conclusions. He wasn't sure how to respond to his friend's sudden deduction, but luckily didn't have to, as James was already opening a new tab and searching the name of the bakery in Google.

"See, look," he said, pointing to the screen with one hand and using the other to scroll down the webpage that had appeared. "'Baker's Bakery, owned by Fred Baker, proud resident of Warrick, California,'" James read.

"Fred Baker is a baker?" Logan inquired with a chuckle. He inclined forward, leaning on the back of James's chair as the taller boy skimmed over the homepage of the website belonging to the store.

"I guess," replied James. He scrolled to the bottom of the page with his mouse. "Ooh, look!" he exclaimed. "Here's a picture of Fred Baker! Oh, look at him, Logan, he looks evil alright. Like a kidnapper or a serial killer or something."

Logan squinted at the picture. Fred Baker appeared maybe in his early thirties, surprisingly thin in spite of his occupation, with a puffy white hat covering some light blond hair. He was smiling warmly while posing at the front counter of his bakery, surrounded by fresh loaves of bread and other various baked goods. The person in the photo looked the complete opposite of the stereotypical criminal. Nor did he resemble a stereotypical baker. Logan always thought bakers were supposed to be jolly and fat.

"Logan, come on," James said after a pause. He clicked a few menu screens and selected 'print'. The machine to the side of the computer suddenly came to life. "We have to call Officer McNair and tell him about this."

"Tell him about what?" said Logan. "It's a bakery, James."

"Dude, why would Kendall have the address to a bakery in northern California just laying in his room?"

"Maybe the bread here doesn't satisfy him…?" It was a weak guess, but it was possible. Logan just didn't want James, or Carlos, for that matter, to get their hopes high, only to have them crushed when this all turned out to be a big misunderstanding.

Then again, the address _wasn't_ in Kendall's handwriting, and it surely wasn't a feminine penmanship, eliminating Jo or Camille. So maybe that _was_ a little shady… also considering an unfamiliar bakery eight hours away was a totally random place.

James scooted away from the edge of the desk, gathering pages that had been spat out by the printer. He turned to Logan, thrusting the papers in his face. "This _is_ something." And for the briefest of seconds before his vision was overtaken by printed words and maps, Logan swore he saw James's eyes sparkling a bit more than usual. Logan sighed, grabbing James's wrist and gently lowering the pages. Big, glistening tears sat in his eyes, threatening to fall with each blink. "It has to be," whispered James.

Logan needed no further convincing. "Okay," he relented, voice low. "Call Officer McNair." James's face instantly lit up, but Logan raised a hand. "Just don't mention anything about this to Mrs. Knight and Katie. Because if it _is_ nothing, it will just make them more upset."

James nodded. His tears were gone as quickly as they had came. He jumped to his feet with the printed pages and address slip in his hand. "Onward!" he declared, darting back to the elevators. Logan followed, heart thumping excitedly despite his brain telling him to knock it off.

While he was having a mental battle with himself between wanting to believe the address had something to do with Kendall and reminding himself that James could sometimes be extremely irrational, Logan noticed Jo appear from the far end of the lobby. The elevator doors closed before she had a chance to notice the two boys, and Logan was relieved.

When the two entered apartment 2J they proceeded quietly, unsure of Mrs. Knight's location. The kitchen and living room area were deserted, so the two crept stealthily to the hall, though not before James swiped Officer McNair's card from the table. Voices were immediately heard, and Logan strained his ears to listen. As they advanced forward, Logan saw that the door to Mrs. Knight's bedroom was open, and she was pacing the floor back and fourth as she spoke on the phone and wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. Carlos sat on the edge of the bed with an arm around Katie, who had her gaze fixed upon the carpet.

Carlos looked up when he noticed Logan and James at the door. He leaned down and murmured something in Katie's ear. She nodded, and he gave the crown of her head a quick peck before getting to his feet. The helmeted boy even offered Mrs. Knight an acknowledging pat to the back as he passed her by, but she didn't seem to notice, as she was too caught up with informing relatives of what had happened.

Carlos closed the door gently behind him as he exited the room. "Well?" he asked, eyes unusually red-rimmed. "What did you find?"

James, grinning, gestured for Carlos to follow him. The three boys retreated to James's bedroom, where the taller boy promptly shut the door and shoved the pages he had printed into Carlos's hands.

Carlos fumbled the papers and nearly dropped them. "What - ?"

"It's a bakery!" James exclaimed, cutting Carlos off. He was beaming so broadly that Logan wondered if his face would split in half.

Carlos gasped. He whipped his head around to Logan as if seeking confirmation. Logan simply shrugged, and Carlos's eyes widened even more. "But that's the universal sign for evil!"

Logan blinked, but said nothing.

The Latino flopped down on the edge of James's bed, sifting through the papers. James lowered himself to the mattress as well, pointing to one of the sheets. "This is a map," James said. "1702 Weylin Road is a bakery in a town called Warrick."

"That's pretty far away," Carlos commented. He paused. His eyes moved carefully up and down the page. "Do you think Kendall went here?"

"What else would it mean?" said James. As Carlos grabbed another sheet of paper, James went on to convey its importance. "This is the website for the bakery. It's owned by some dude named Fred Baker."

Carlos snickered.

"The site says that Warrick is a small town," James said. "Only about three thousand people."

Carlos dropped his amused smile and became instantly serious. He nodded solemnly.

Logan finally tossed his hands up. "Is there something I'm not getting here?"

"Duh," said Carlos with a roll of his eyes. "Most diabolical things happen in small towns. It's common knowledge, Logan."

Logan stared at him a moment, deciding not to press on. It was likely Carlos's source of information came from the many scary movies he had watched with James over the years.

"And anyway," James said, "for Kendall to have the address to this place in his room is way too weird. Especially since he's not the one who wrote it." He dug around in his pocket for his cell phone to reveal the device, as well as McNair's card. "So," James continued to Carlos, "we are going to call Officer McNair to investigate it."

Carlos eagerly bounced up and down where he sat, watching James intently as he put the phone on speaker and dialed the number on the card. Even Logan found himself becoming a bit anxious. Sighing, he crossed the room and took a seat next to Carlos, leaning forward to examine James.

The phone rang only twice before a deep voice picked up. "David McNair."

"Officer McNair!" James nearly shouted. "This is James Diamond, and I have information that may lead us to Kendall Knight!"

Logan inwardly cringed. The way James was talking was making him seem like some sort of dark negotiator seeking a ransom.

There was a brief pause on the line. "And what may that be, Mr. Diamond?"

This time Carlos answered. "We found an address slip in Kendall's room, and James and Logan looked it up, and it turns out it's the address to a bakery."

"In Warrick, California," added James. "1702 Weylin Road. That's W-E-Y-L-I-N. Are you writing this down? Do you want me to spell it again?"

"No, that's not necessary," replied McNair. He repeated the address back to the boys, who confirmed it was correct. "Now," he said, "what's leading you to believe Kendall is at this place? Does he have some sort of connection with the bakery?"

"No," replied James, "no connection at all."

"And that's why it's suspicious!" Carlos exclaimed. "Because not only is this thing not in Kendall's handwriting, but no one has ever heard of Baker's Bakery or Warrick, so it obviously means that something is going down!" He made sure to say the last part extra dramatically.

Logan sat still, listening for a reply from the officer on the other line. James held the phone in the palm of his hand, staring with rapt attention as he too anticipated a response.

"Okay," McNair said, gently. "Could you tell me a bit more about where you found this address? And by whom?"

"I found it. Behind Kendall's dresser," said Carlos. "Where you guys failed to look."

There was a short pause. Then, a bit of static, as McNair presumably sighed into the receiver. "Look, boys -"

James cut him off. In a swift motion he bolted off the bed and jumped to his feet, face reddening and clenching the fist that wasn't holding his phone. "No, _you _look."

Logan raised his eyebrows in surprise at the taller boy's aggressive tone. James was normally very polite, especially to authority figures. Nonetheless, Logan and Carlos remained put where they sat.

"Kendall would not just _leave_. Something or someone is making him do this, I know it. We've all known each other since preschool, and Kendall has always been the one to keep us together when we fight, or help us out when we need it. He was captain of our hockey team back in Minnesota, so he was always giving us pep talks about how we need to work together, have each others' backs, and play as a _team_. We're a band now. I don't think the rules have changed."

McNair began a reply, but James cut him off yet again, speaking rapidly. "His friends and his family are the most important people in his life. If Kendall ran away from home because he had some issues going on that he felt like he couldn't explain to us, that would mean he was giving up on us. And he would never do that. To _anyone_."

Everything James said was correct. Logan's mind whirled with the new realization, trying to assemble the pieces of the puzzle he was given. But in his opinion, it didn't matter how trusting and how principled Kendall was in the past. People could change. There was no solid evidence that proved Kendall's reason for walking out of the apartment was just.

And who was Logan to argue with logic?

James kept on, talking faster and with more passion than ever. "His little sister Katie is probably the person he loves the most in the world. In middle school he kept a picture of her in his locker, and a ton of kids would tease him for it but he never _once _took it down. And he sings to her when she can't fall asleep or when she has a nightmare, and he kisses her head and he tells her he loves her almost everyday. He helped her ride a bike, learn to skate, jump rope, tie her shoes, sing the alphabet. We were almost six years old when Katie was born, and I watched as he took her in his arms and promised he would protect her no matter what. What other five-year-old would do that?" James stopped, eyes sparkling, and lowered his voice. "Maybe he wouldn't stay for us. But he would for her."

The room fell into silence. Carlos shared a glance with Logan. The two knew that when James set his mind to something, he wasn't going to budge. It was both an admirable quality, and an irritating one.

Finally, Officer McNair spoke, voice void of annoyance. "I'll check into it."

* * *

Mrs. Knight offered to make the boys lunch. Logan insisted they could handle it themselves, but Mrs. Knight said she wanted to. It would take her mind off things for a few minutes.

No one had an appetite, including Carlos, which was shocking. All the boys and Katie sat awkwardly at the kitchen table while Mrs. Knight moved languidly about the kitchen, gathering everything she needed to make some sandwiches. Crusts off for Carlos and Katie, extra mayo for James, three slices of meat for Logan. Five plates were set on the table. Logan assumed the fifth was for Mrs. Knight, but she never sat down. He was unsure if she made lunch for Kendall out of force of habit, or if it was on purpose. He decided not to ask.

Silence. Not a word was spoken as the kids ate. Katie mainly poked at her food with her finger, making tiny craters in the top of her bread. Carlos took one large bite, chewed slowly, then abandoned his lunch all together.

"You should eat something, Mrs. Knight," Logan finally said. He glanced over at Kendall's empty chair, then shuddered.

Mrs. Knight leaned against the counter in the kitchen, her arms folded over her chest. "I'll eat something later," she assured. But it was a lie. He knew it was.

Logan had never eaten a meal with his friends that was so devoid of conversation. It almost made him want to cry. But how stupid would it be if he broke down in the middle of eating lunch? Especially with Katie and Mrs. Knight in the room. They'd think he was an idiot.

He tried his best to push away intruding thoughts of Kendall, but it was difficult. His mind was full of questions, the prime concern being Kendall's safety.

Neither Logan, Carlos, James, or Katie finished their sandwiches. They placed their plates in the kitchen and then just stood there looking at each other, wondering what they were supposed to do next. Officer McNair had told the boys he would call back after the bakery was checked out. Carlos was terrible at keeping secrets, and Logan had to admit that he was incredibly worried that the Latino would spill the beans. But Logan and James had been very careful to not use the word 'secret' when they explained to Carlos he was not allowed to tell anyone about the address. So far, so good.

Mrs. Knight eventually declared that she would call Rocque Records to inform Gustavo and Kelly of the situation, as they had not been officially notified. But before she retreated to her bedroom with her cell phone, she stopped and faced Katie and the boys. "I don't want any of you thinking this is your fault." None of them looked her in the eye. "…Do you want to talk?"

Logan didn't expect anyone to say yes. He was correct.

He sighed gloomily as he watched Katie follow her mother, leaving the guys alone in the living room. Logan listened, hating how quiet it was. Before, there wasn't a dull moment in the apartment. Now the place was bathed in a dreary haze that sucked the joy out of everything.

A light knock alerted them to someone at the door. Logan's heart nearly skipped a beat, half expecting to see an officer dragging Kendall home by his ear. But when Carlos sprinted across the floor to answer, it was Jo who was standing outside. She was frowning sadly, her cell phone in her hand.

"Is this Kendall's way of telling me it's over?"

Carlos glanced over his shoulder, shooting a doleful look towards Logan and James. Logan merely shrugged, letting out the breath he had been holding. They had to tell her sooner or later.

"No," Carlos replied gently, stepping aside to let Jo enter. He never liked being the bearer of bad news. "No, that's not it."

She shuffled into 2J cautiously, eyes confusedly scanning over the sober faces of the three boys. "What's going on?" Her voice wavered. Jo wasn't clueless. She sensed something was amiss.

"You should maybe sit down," said Carlos, slowly. He put his hands on her shoulders and guided her to the long orange couch. When she plopped down onto the soft cushions, she scooted to the edge of the seat and leaned forward, nervously fiddling with her hands in her lap. She was wearing a red blouse and a pair of dark blue jeans. The makeup on her face was subtly applied, and she looked fantastic. It was safe to assume she had dressed up for her date with Kendall. Just looking at her made Logan's anger towards Kendall begin to bubble once more. But with willpower he didn't know he possessed, Logan forced his frustration away, knowing this was not an appropriate time to get upset.

The guys stood before Jo, Logan rubbing the back of his neck, James staring at his feet, and Carlos rocking anxiously on his heels. To save Carlos the heartache of telling Jo what had happened to Kendall, Logan opened his mouth and began to explain the situation to the puzzled girl on the couch.

At first she didn't speak. Her face said it all. Her eyebrows flew up, jaw fell slack, and her frame froze. Logan told her everything, leaving out only the part about the address and calling Officer McNair.

Jo finally vocalized a response. "What?"

Logan didn't say anything.

Jo looked to James and then to Carlos, who still wouldn't meet her eyes. She scrutinized their expressions, searching for the truth on their faces. She found it. "But… But he wouldn't. He _wouldn't_." Then she stopped, her pretty orbs locking directly on Logan. "Would he?"

Logan remained mute.

* * *

It was an agonizingly slow day.

Being cooped up in the apartment all day was painfully tedious, and also painfully heartbreaking, as Mrs. Knight clearly didn't know what to do with herself. She paced the apartment so many times that the floorboards were beginning to wear down, and at random periods throughout the day she would erupt in crying spells that could last from a few minutes to an hour. Usually when they started she fled to her bedroom or the bathroom where the kids couldn't see her. Logan didn't blame her. He noticed the frightened look in Katie's eyes whenever her mom would have a moment of weakness. Seeing parents upset was always a scary thing.

Logan decided to take a shower, so he didn't have to take one in the morning. He turned the water up as hot as he could possibly stand it, then jumped in, hissing at the scalding temperature. But he stood there anyway, watching his pale skin redden.

He didn't eat anything for supper. He just wasn't hungry. His stomach was finally filled with that sinking pit of worry, eliminating any room for food.

He missed Kendall.

As Logan began to lather some shampoo into his hair, he thought of how the guys were faring. Carlos seemed simply bored. He flopped on the couch for a while and laid there, played a videogame for about five seconds before he flipped it off, and channel-surfed for a couple hours. James busied himself by finally fixing his hair that he had neglected to style earlier. It took him nearly the entire afternoon. And Logan had occupied himself by reading a book, though it took him about ten minutes to finish a page, as his thoughts were elsewhere.

Kendall's leaving was, quite simply, imprudent in Logan's mind. Noble, to James and Carlos. He wasn't sure what Jo thought of the whole thing. She was definitely upset, though she didn't cry. She seemed a bit in shock, using robotic movements to give each boy a hug before she left. Logan had never been hugged by her before, neither had the others. He hated how Kendall was making everyone change.

Gustavo called Logan after Mrs. Knight had phoned Rocque Records. Apparently Logan was not supposed to tell anyone about Kendall and keep it from the press, as the leader of Big Time Rush running away was bad publicity. But if no one knew about Kendall's disappearance, how were they supposed to find him?

Logan had hung up. Kelly's name appeared on the caller ID a few moments later, and she apologized on Gustavo's behalf and asked if she should come over. Logan declined politely, then reverted back to doing nothing productive.

He sighed, rubbing his soapy hands over his hair and scrubbing hard. He was just about to rinse his head under the spray of water when he heard a noise. Confused, Logan opened an eye just in time to see the shower curtain fly open. He screamed.

"LOGAN!" Carlos yelled. "HE CALLED BACK, HE CALLED BACK!"

Logan continued to shriek like a teenage girl in a horror movie, desperately trying to cover himself. "Dude, I am in the _shower_!"

Carlos ignored him. "Come on come on come on!" He reached over to the sink counter where Logan had left a folded towel, then thrust it into the flustered boy's hands. "Let's gooo!" Carlos cried, snatching Logan's wrist and forcing him out of the shower.

Logan hollered in protest, nearly tripping over the edge of the tub. He fumbled clumsily in attempts to wrap the towel around his waist with one hand, as Carlos had a death grip on his other arm and wasn't letting go.

"Carlos! What are you _doing_?" Logan angrily shouted. With the water in the shower still running and bubbles rolling down Logan's face, he was dragged out of the bathroom.

"Let's go let's go let's go!" Carlos continued to chant, leading a dripping Logan through the kitchen. Logan yelped and nearly slipped on the floor, but Carlos gave him no time to recover, pressing forward like he was a husky racing in the Iditarod. And it seemed like Logan was always the sled in situations like this.

While Logan proceeded screaming in bewilderment and irritation, Carlos shouted in excitement, leading his friend past the living room. Logan's face flushed bright red when they hurried by Mrs. Knight and Katie. Kendall's mother nearly choked. She reached out to cover a hand over Katie's eyes, who looked torn between laughing like a maniac and groping for a cell phone or camera to no doubt video the spectacle and post it on the Internet.

"CARLOS WHAT IS GOING ON?" Logan screeched, now blind from the stinging shampoo pouring into his eyes. At least he managed to get his towel on.

As his mind was still recovering from the shock of being yanked out of the shower and tugged through the apartment, Logan hardly noticed that the two had come to a halt. Keeping one hand on the towel to ensure it didn't unravel, Logan reached up and swiped at his eyes, clearing away the suds. He shivered, the water trickling down his body like melting snow. He opened his mouth to yell at Carlos some more, but stopped when he realized Carlos had shoved him into James's room.

Carlos hushed him, pointing to James, who held out his phone. Officer McNair's voice was speaking on the receiver: "…to get to Warrick. Officer Nelson Riddell was briefed on the situation and went to Baker's Bakery to speak with Mr. Baker. He just got back to me and found nothing out of the ordinary."

The hand holding the phone quivered as James's shoulders slumped. Carlos rubbed a hand over his face and lowered his head.

"But Riddell gave Mr. Baker a picture of Kendall," continued McNair, "just incase he shows up." He paused. "I'm sorry, guys."

James licked his lips, then lowered himself slowly on the edge of his mattress. "Thanks for checking things out." His voice was almost a whisper.

"No problem. If you find something else, you call me, alright?"

"Will do." James thanked the man again, then ended the call.

Logan let his eyes shift between his two friends, taking careful note of their defeated appearances. That was what happened to optimists. False hope.

His teeth were chattering, as water and masses of soap bubbles continued to roll down his goose bump-pricked skin. Even so, the anger Logan felt from practically being violated by Carlos dissipated at the sight of his friend's expression. If he had been fully dressed, he might have looped a comforting arm around the Latino's shoulders.

The mattress squeaked as James finally stood, tucking his cell phone in his pocket. He made a tiny noise that sounded sort of like a sob, but covered it up with a light cough. A few deep breaths later, he bucked up and stuck out his chin. "Well," declared James, "I think we know what we have to do."

Carlos nodded. Logan quirked an eyebrow.

"We need to go find Kendall ourselves."

Logan almost dropped his towel. "Come again?"

This time Carlos answered, moving to stand next to James. "Logan, come on. The police didn't see the address behind Kendall's dresser. How do we know they didn't mess up again?"

Logan laughed. Oh no. No, no, no. They were not going to sucker him into one of their plans. A James-Carlos plan always ended in disaster. They always thought they had things figured out. That they had the brightest ideas. That they were invincible. And the way they had their arms crossed over their chests told Logan that they had been scheming behind his back. He was not going to become involved in this.

"Do you hear what you're saying?" said Logan. "You're going to go find Kendall yourselves?" He snorted. "And how, exactly, do you plan on doing that?"

James narrowed his eyes, obviously not appreciating the condescension. "We _do_ have a plan, if that's what you're getting at."

"I'd love to hear it."

James and Carlos looked at each other. The taller boy fished back into his jeans pocket and revealed a slip of paper - the address slip reading 1702 Weylin Road. One part smudged purple, of course. "We have directions to this place. And you have a learners' permit."

Logan's eyes widened. "Oh, no…"

"And Mrs. Knight has a car…"

"No, James."

"And the keys are in her purse…"

"James. No."

"And it's parked right outside…"

"Absolutely not!" He couldn't believe what was coming out of James's mouth. Letting out an exasperated gasp, Logan tossed one hand in the air. "I mean, are you _serious_? You want to _steal _Mrs. Knight's car to go to a bakery that the police already checked out in hopes to find Kendall? That's crazy! Not to mention illegal!"

Carlos shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Dude, come on," said James. "I know what you're thinking. I know that you have a hard time believing that Kendall had some sort of legitimate reason for leaving. But the way _I_ see it, is that it doesn't _matter _what sort of reason he had. We need to find him and bring him home."

Logan stopped to consider his friend's words. James had a point. Whether Kendall walked out because he felt like it or because of something much more deep, he probably needed some help.

Logan sighed, wiping more soap away from his forehead with the back of his hand. No one seemed to notice that he was leaving a puddle on the carpet.

"You can stay here if you want," James said. "But me and Carlos are going to find Kendall."

Bad idea. Really bad idea. Neither had ever (legally) been behind the wheel of a car. They could not try to drive down busy LA streets with no knowledge of the mechanics of a vehicle. "Guys, no," Logan answered, sternly. "You'll get yourselves killed. Or thrown in jail. And if you go to jail, I am not bailing you out again."

Carlos smirked. "Then you better come with us, Logan. You're the only one who knows how to drive."

Logan knew he was trapped. Unless he wanted James and Carlos to meet their demise, he would have to go with them. Then again, he could always tell Mrs. Knight and have her lock them in their rooms, like the time she was wrapping Christmas presents and James and Carlos made the mistake of trying to peek.

"If we leave," said Logan, "we'll be no better than Kendall."

Carlos and James seemed to let that sink in for a moment. They looked to one another, then to the ground.

Logan might have had them beat. He was ready to say checkmate. But he gazed over his crestfallen friends and came to the realization that maybe they were on to something. The police had already checked out the mysterious address and came up with nothing. If Logan, Carlos and James investigated themselves, they were likely to obtain similar results. But still. It was better than staying at home feeling powerless. It was better than saying they never tried.

Mrs. Knight and Katie would be crushed, but Logan knew their hearts would heal. Because Logan, James and Carlos would for sure come back. Maybe - _maybe_ - with Kendall.

Besides. Logan could use a good adventure. And Kendall always told him to take a risk.

He shrugged. "Oh, alright. I'm in."


	6. Assurances

**Argh, sorry for the slow update, guys! I've been really busy with school lately. Anyway, this chapter, though fun to write (and you'll find out why!), was very hard for me to write. But Chapter 7 is almost done (surprisingly), and should be posted within the next few days. Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing! Please continue to do so! I really appreciate it, especially those who leave me some feedback. Reviews totally motivate me to update :D Whoo!**

**Warnings: Excessive use of caps lock.**

* * *

Chapter 6  
Assurances

"Guys, I don't know about this—"

"Okay, first of all, Logan, you said you were getting your license in two months, and that was like a year ago. So, you know, either get it or don't, mm-kay?"

"Yeah, but James—"

"And taking a bus or a cab or whatever would be way too expensive, and would take forever."

"Okay, but that—"

"Don't you want to help Kendall?"

"Of course I do—"

"Then let's _go._"

Carlos puffed out his cheeks as he sighed, watching James continue to throw out his points for the umpteenth time. It was obvious that Logan was having second thoughts.

The Latino impatiently stood in Logan's room, rolling his eyes and tapping his foot against the carpet. He had a fluttery sort of feeling in his chest that was reminiscent of the sensation of creeping to the top of a hill on a rollercoaster, peering down and catching a glimpse of the drop before it's all a blur and whirl of adrenaline. He loved that feeling.

Logan, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck. He was never any good at making decisions. It seemed impossible that his pale face could be any more white. A backpack was sitting on Logan's bed, which signaled that he was ready to go. Or, at least, had been, at one point.

"Well me and Carlos are going with or without you," James finally said with a huff, clearly growing tired of reiterating the same argument over and over again.

Carlos frowned. He really wanted Logan to come with. They were best friends, after all. And best friends had to stick together. Especially now with Kendall gone.

His stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought of his blond friend, but Carlos shrugged it off and felt better again as soon as he remembered they were going to go find him.

"Too bad you already told me about your plan," said Logan. "What makes you so sure I'm not going to tell Mrs. Knight about this and have her stop you?"

James looked defeated for moment, earning a smug smirk from Logan. But James was stubborn. Carlos could practically see the gears turning in the taller boy's head before his face lit up and he pointed a finger at Logan's chest. "You're not going to tell Mrs. Knight anything. Because if you do, I'll tell her that you had a crush on her in third grade."

Carlos snickered as Logan's face instantly obtained some color. He flushed to the shade of a tomato, eyes widening in shock. He shot a glance to the door, afraid that someone had heard. "You swore you would never speak of that again!" he hissed.

James knew he had won. He crossed both arms over his chest and smiled sweetly. "Or maybe I'll tell Kendall when we find him."

"I was eight!" Logan cried. He groaned and raked a hand through his hair in obvious distress. Carlos felt kind of bad that Logan was getting so flustered, but still couldn't keep from laughing. Only James and Carlos knew that Logan had been a bit infatuated with Mrs. Knight when the boys were younger. It was just a phase that lasted a month or two, but Logan still feared Kendall, Katie, or Mrs. Knight herself would discover his secret and start looking at him strangely. Logan confided in Carlos one time that he thought Kendall would beat him up, but Carlos doubted that.

"Look," Logan sighed. His face was still rosy, but not as starkly scarlet. "I know I said I'd go with you guys," he glanced at the backpack, "but this… I mean, this is so…"

"Crazy?" James finished.

Logan shrugged. "I was going to say rash, but sure."

"Come on, Logan," Carlos said, resisting the urge to bounce up and down in excitement. "The cops obviously don't know what they're doing. They missed the address. They probably missed something again."

"Besides," added James, "it sounds like that other officer only talked with the baker."

"Your point?" asked Logan with a shrug.

Carlos knew where James was going, so he continued. "The point is that the baker could have lied. And the cops aren't about to break down the baker's door and search the place for anything suspicious."

Logan's brow was furrowed in uncertainty. There was nothing condescending in his quiet tone. "And you are?"

James nodded. Carlos slapped his helmet.

Carlos was glad that Logan was easily susceptible to peer pressure. With a sigh and a glance at the alarm clock on the dresser, Logan leaned over and grabbed the backpack from the bed, hoisting it over his shoulder. "Fine. You'll kill yourselves anyway if I'm not driving."

"Yes!" Carlos cried, pumping a fist in the air.

"Shh!" James chided, clapping a hand over Carlos's mouth. The shorter boy poked his tongue out and touched it to James's palm.

James yelped. "Ew! Don't lick me!" He furiously wiped his hand over the thigh of his jeans before slugging Carlos on the shoulder.

"Don't punch me!" Carlos retorted, copying James's action. Of course, James hit Carlos back, Carlos returned the gesture, and the process repeated until Logan pried them apart.

"Cut it out," he said. "We'll wake up Mrs. Knight and Katie."

Carlos glowered at James, but nodded anyway, knowing Logan was right. The digital numbers on the clock read it was coming on eleven thirty PM. Both Kendall's mother and sister had retired to Mrs. Knight's bedroom for the night, since Katie refused to be by herself. Carlos knew they weren't really sleeping; how could they be? But either way, they probably weren't going to come out for a while, giving the three boys plenty of time to escape.

"Okay," Logan said, sighing again. "So what did you guys pack?"

James rambled off a list without having to take the backpack off his shoulders. "Hair mousse, hairspray, body spray, body wash, mouthwash, toothbrush, toothpaste, my lucky comb -"

"Really?" Logan asked, making a face. "It's going to be just us on the road. No one else is going to see you."

"Well, you didn't let me finish," said James. "I also brought clothes, and my MP3 player, an arsenal of bandanas, and two hundred bucks."

Carlos raised his eyebrows. "Where'd you get two hundred bucks?"

"It's money from snow shoveling and Christmas and birthdays and stuff."

Carlos himself only had about fifty dollars to bring with. He'd spent most of his money funding a human slingshot to launch himself over the length of the Palm Woods pool.

"What about you?" James asked Carlos. "What are you bringing with?"

"Underwear," Carlos casually replied. His mother always told him to change his underwear everyday, and he wasn't quite sure how long he was going to be on this adventure. So, he packed every pair he had, ensuring he would have a sufficient amount. Even if he didn't, he could just turn the garment inside out. It had always worked for him the past.

James and Logan stared at him for a moment, but decided not to press on. "Alright, let's just get going," Logan muttered, starting for the door. His sweaty hand turned the knob before he twisted back around and motioned for the guys keep their noise level at a minimum.

With their backpacks over their shoulders and their jackets on their bodies, the three boys stepped outside into the hall. Carlos closed the bedroom door behind him after flipping off the light switch. He was used to undergoing mischievous acts, but sneaking out and jacking a car was probably the most ignoble (and illegal) thing he had ever done. His heart was pumping hard in his ears, yet a grin was plastered over his round face. Doing something 'bad' always gave him a pleasurable thrill, and this was no exception.

Logan and James emerged from the hall and crept quietly into the main room of the apartment. Carlos lagged behind, walking leisurely. He stopped when he was about to pass Kendall's room. All day he had been forgetting that Kendall was gone. And at times it didn't seem real. Kendall was just out on a date with Jo. He was relaxing by the pool. Enjoying an afternoon swim. Playing Frisbee in the park. Helping Gustavo and Kelly at Rocque Records.

Carlos bit down on his lower lip. He pushed open the door to Kendall's room and poked his helmet-clad inside. Dull moonlight casting through the blinds of the window allowed blobs of inky shadows to lurk in every corner. His eyes scanned over the dark room, noting the faint outline of the many hockey awards Kendall had earned over the years. The bright colors of the Minnesota Wild poster tacked over the bed stuck out significantly. He considered how _weird_ it was that he was noticing all these things. Carlos was certainly never a very observant person; when he was in first grade, his teacher asked him to describe his best friend, and Carlos had mistakenly given James black hair. And in third grade he was supposed to meet his parents at the car after a trip to the grocery store, but ended up lost and sobbing in the middle of the parking lot until they found him because he never took the time to comprehend the color of his family's vehicle.

Kendall's room even had a scent to it that Carlos had never noticed before. It was a musky sort of smell that, now that he thought about it, was uniquely Kendall. Carlos could practically see it wafting in the air, lingering on every object, filling every space of the room. Remnants that proved Kendall had been there, that this room belonged to him.

Carlos leaned forward and spoke in a low, hushed voice. "Hang on, Kendall. We'll find you soon." Then he offered the room a soft smile, picturing in his mind that he was speaking with his friend and not just hazy silhouettes of things that couldn't return an assurance.

Carlos closed the door. He trotted forward until he exited the hall. Logan and James stood at the kitchen counter, giving him a sympathetic look but not saying a word. Logan sighed lightly through his nose and was the one to break the silence. "So should we, uh, leave a note or something?"

Until Logan said it aloud, Carlos hadn't realized how much they _were_ acting like Kendall, as Logan had suggested earlier.

He approached his two friends at the counter while James rummaged through some drawers for a piece of paper and a pen. When he located the desired objects, he slapped the paper down on the table. "Okay, what should we say?"

"Just tell Mrs. Knight that we're sorry we're leaving, but we had to go," said Logan.

The pen in James's hand didn't move. Carlos knew why.

"Oh…" Logan murmured. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, then cleared his throat. "Okay then, what do you guys think we should put?"

James tapped his chin, thinking for a few moments. Finally, his eyebrows flew up as if a switch had connected in his brain, and his writing utensil began to scribble over the page. Carlos leaned over his shoulder, squinting through the darkness to catch a glimpse of what James was scrawling.

The taller boy stepped away and snapped his fingers triumphantly.

_Dear Mrs. Knight and Katie,_

_We had to leave to go do something important. Please don't worry about us. Or call the cops. Or tell Gustavo. We'll come back as soon as we can._

_Love,  
__James, Carlos, and Logan._

"Nice," said Carlos, giving his friend a high-five. He liked the part about Gustavo especially, because the boss would flip his lid if he discovered the remaining members of his band had hit the road.

"Good enough," Logan said with a shrug. He straightened the note on the counter, making sure it was parallel with the edge of the table. Then his dark eyes shifted over to Mrs. Knight's purse, which sat only a few feet away.

"Well, go on," James urged, giving Logan a nudge in the side. "Take the keys."

Carlos watched with interest as Logan's face scrunched up in that way it always did when he knew he was about to do something that would get him in trouble. His pale hand hovered above the purse, like a claw that was about to drop down and snatch the treasure underneath. But soon his hand was shaking, and he turned his body away with a frustrated sigh. "Aw, I can't do it." He rubbed a hand over his blushing face.

Carlos loosened his shoulders. "Step aside, boys. Let me handle this." He cautiously approached the purse, mindful it could be guarded by lasers or little motion detectors. Carlos bent his knees, inclining forward. The top compartment of the bag was open, and a silver glint of metal peeked out between a billfold. Tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, he focused all his concentration on swiping the keys in one swift, fluid motion.

"Run!" Carlos shouted once the keys were in his hand. He darted like a bullet to the other side of 2J, flinging open the door and stumbling into the bright hallway. He flew down the corridor and to the stairwell, knowing it was much quicker than the elevator. Mr. Bitters frowned upon anyone loitering the lobby past nine o'clock, so Carlos hurried by the front desk and to the exit of the building. He emerged in the Palm Woods parking lot, a few yellow lamps and white stars above providing the only light outside.

He waited patiently for Logan and James to catch up. There was a light breeze in the air, making goose bumps prick along his arms, despite the jacket he wore. Except the faint rustling of tree branches, nothing made a sound.

This was so cool! It was nearly midnight, and he was exactly where he shouldn't be, breaking rules and about to embark on an adventure with two of his best friends to locate his third best friend. Awesome.

When Logan and James met him in the parking lot, Carlos saw that James had the MapQuest directions in his hand. Carlos tossed the keys to Logan, who fumbled them a few times before securing a firm hold.

"Where's Mrs. Knight park?" Carlos wondered aloud, starting down one long row of vehicles.

"It's a silver, 2004 Mercedes-Benz," said Logan. He then recited the license plate number, which had Carlos thanking the world that he had Logan to make up for his own lack of observation.

Carlos searched the rows, aiming to seek a license plate since he had no idea what an '04 Mercedes-Benz looked like. Sure, he marveled at a stylish car every now and again, but he never cared for them as much as his friends. Logan and Kendall, especially, pointed out the new models and the classic models and the cars with the best mileage and other stuff that Carlos didn't exactly understand. However, he did know his favorite kind of car, which was a Pontiac GTO convertible, more specifically, the Big Time Rush Mobile.

Carlos stopped walking. He turned around to face his friends, who had their heads turned in different directions as they observed the lot. "Guys, whatever happened to the car Gustavo bought us?"

Logan and James each made a face, exchanging quizzical looks with one another. "You know," said James, "I kind of forgot about the BTR Mobile."

"I think Gustavo sold it when he had to buy our band back and get us out of Minnesota," said Logan, recalling the events that led up to the band's first concert.

Carlos shrugged. He would have to ask Gustavo about that later.

"Hey," James said, pointing. "There it is."

For a second or two, Carlos thought James was talking about Big Time Rush's car. Then he realized James was gesturing to the silver vehicle belonging to Mrs. Knight. "Shotgun!" James cried, bolting for the passengers' side.

"Fine by me," said Carlos. He skipped to the car door and yanked on the handle, finding it locked. "The back seat has way more room."

Logan clumsily groped with the keys, having difficulty differentiating between the apartment key and the car key in the dark. He finally located the correct one and slid it into the lock. Carlos could hear him breathe a nervous exhale as he slowly climbed into the car, pressing a button to automatically unlock the other doors for James and Carlos.

"Alright!" Carlos excitedly cheered, throwing his backpack onto the grey leather seat. "Our quest to find Kendall officially starts now!" He flopped his body inside and slammed the door shut, bouncing up and down where he sat.

James piled in as well, placing his backpack at his feet. Logan started the car with a careful hand, as if afraid the thing would explode if he did it any quicker. He twisted the key in the ignition, and the engine rumbled to life.

James reached back and held out his hand, which Carlos eagerly slapped. "Let's go!" he urged Logan. The shorter boy was busy fiddling with the rearview mirror, too engrossed in his task to notice James reach for the knob on the radio. Loud, booming rock music thudded through the car a moment later, which had Carlos wondering if he should cover his ears or bob along to the deep bass that practically shook the vehicle.

Logan shouted something that couldn't be heard over the sound of the hammering music. He made a mad grab for the volume and turned the knob down all the way. "What do you think this is, a joyride?" he scolded in the high-pitched voice that always came out when he was flustered.

"Well, yeah, pretty much," James said.

"Yup," Carlos agreed.

Logan took a deep breath. "I'm not going to panic," he said to himself. "I'm fine. I am so fine." He laughed. "I mean, we're just stealing a car, right? And we're just about to drive it through LA even though it's illegal for me to drive without an adult in the car—"

"Will you chill?" James told him, rolling his eyes. "You've driven plenty of times before. You'll be fine."

"But—"

"No buts!" James interrupted, leaning over to give the driver an encouraging slap to the shoulder. "You need to stop being so pessimistic. Besides, it's too late to turn back now."

"No it's not. We could easily get out of the car, go back to the apartment, throw away the note we left, go to bed and let the police do their jobs. And by the way, I'm not pessimistic, I'm realistic. There's a difference."

"Logan."

"What?"

"Just shut up and go."

Carlos snickered, watching as James fastened his seatbelt and Logan grudgingly shifted the car into reverse. The shorter boy turned his body and rested one hand on the back of James's seat, peering out the rear window as he eased Mrs. Knight's car out of the parking space. The wheel was turned sharply before he put the vehicle into drive.

Carlos's body suddenly jerked forward. Crushing metal-on-metal squeaked in his ears, and he gasped.

Logan froze, slamming a foot down on the brake pedal and keeping it there. "Oh no."

"Dude!" exclaimed James, leaning forward in his seat. "You just hit the bumper of that car!"

Logan let out a girlish yelp, hands flying off the wheel. "What do I do!" he yelled. "We're going to go to jail!"

James groaned as Carlos stood to get a better look out the windshield. Sure enough, the back end of the neighboring Toyota was pressed inward, a streak of silver paint noticeably cutting across the dark bumper.

"I'M A JUVENILE DELINQUENT!" Logan shrieked, eyes so wide they threatened to pop out of his head. "W-We have t-to write down o-our information," he stammered, reaching over to James's side to fumble in the glove compartment.

James slapped his hand away and kicked the small door shut with his knee. "Logan, there's no time for that. Look, it's hardly noticeable. We just need to get out of here!"

"But—but—but…"

"Just go!" James urged.

Carlos gasped and was tossed back into his seat as Logan slammed on the gas, stomped on the brakes, shifted into drive, and put the pedal to the metal. The tires squealed, no doubt leaving a black stripe of rubber on the pavement as Logan tore out of the Palm Woods parking lot. He slowed down when he eased onto the road. The few cars that passed by didn't seem to notice how fast he had been driving beforehand.

"Oh no oh no oh no oh no," Logan chanted, knuckles white. He stooped forward, chest practically touching the steering wheel. "Where do I go?"

Carlos moaned and pulled himself upright so he rested on his knees on the seat. He adjusted his cockeyed helmet as he cast a look to James. The brown-haired boy had the maps up to his face, turning them at every angle, trying to decipher the strange markings and street numbers.

"Uh," he said, eyes never leaving the sheets. "Take the next right."

"Okay," Logan breathed, flipping on the blinker. He was nearly panting, which Carlos knew signaled he was about to freak out again. Great.

Carlos turned around in his seat, peering out the rear window. Despite it being close to midnight, there was a line of bright headlights behind them. When he rotated back to the front, he noticed a fair amount of traffic on the roads ahead as well. The Latino's heart began beating a bit quicker in worry. Logan having a panic attack while trying to maneuver a car through busy LA streets was probably not a good idea. And if _Carlos_ thought it was a bad idea, then it most likely meant certain death, because there were few things the reckless boy wouldn't do.

Logan stuck to the speed limit as he rounded the following corner. He stayed in his lane and handled the vehicle with proper technique. Until, that is, James looked up from his sheets and yelled. "No, not this right! The other right!"

"What?" exclaimed Logan.

"You were supposed to go the other way!"

"You said right!"

"I meant left!"

Logan's pants turned to alarmed whimpers as he cranked on the wheel and pulled into the nearest lot, which looked to belong to a large office building, windows all black.

Carlos screamed and was tossed to the side, landing awkwardly with his cheek squashed against the window glass. A chorus of horns honked before the screeching of tires was once again assaulting his ears. Carlos let out a pained moan and attempted to peel himself away from the door and out of his uncomfortable position, but was unable to move. The car was still in motion.

"Carlos!" Logan shouted, bearing down on the gas pedal. "Put your seatbelt on!"

It took a moment for his mind to register that Logan was doing a doughnut in the middle of the office's parking lot in order to get the car heading in the right direction. The inertial force wore off a moment later, causing Carlos to drop back onto the seat like a sack of potatoes. "Logan, you're going to kill us!" he screamed, now genuinely concerned for their safety.

The vehicle jolted to the side, and suddenly Logan was on the street again, ramming a fist into the horn as he flew through a lane of traffic.

James pointed furiously up ahead. "Turn, turn, turn!"

"Ahh!" Carlos cried, being whipped sideways yet again. He instinctively squeezed his eyes shut and tensed. It was no use, and he rolled off the seat and landed hard on the car floor, face buried in the dirty carpet.

"CARLOS PUT YOUR SEATBELT ON!" Logan hollered again, strident voice nearly drowned out by the honking horns outside. "You're going to fly out the windshield!"

"Maybe I wouldn't if you would—"

"LOGAN GO RIGHT, GO RIGHT!" James shrilly shrieked, holding his hands in front of his face as if shielding himself.

The moment Carlos was pulling himself up, the car swerved to the side, flinging him down yet again. This time the deafening horn outside was directly on the opposite side of the door, letting him know they had missed an oncoming car by inches.

Thankful for the helmet on his head, Carlos grabbed the back of the passengers' seat and used it as an aid to haul up his battered body. He was immediately greeted by a view of the road ahead, catching a glimpse of a speed limit sign reading thirty-five. He shifted his gaze to the speedometer and saw that Logan was operating Mrs. Knight's vehicle at a pace of almost fifty miles per hour.

"I just committed seventeen traffic violations!" Logan exclaimed. Sweat beaded his pallid forehead, body was visibly shaking. "We're going to jail, we're going to jail, oh my gosh we are GOING TO JAIL!"

Logan passed a truck, the driver sticking his hand out the window and giving an offensive gesture. Carlos would have laughed if he wasn't so afraid of being killed. The normally cautious-driver Logan was a maniac in his state of panic.

The roads were unfamiliar to Carlos; he had never been through this part of town. He remembered from James's MapQuest directions that the second turn en route to the interstate was on Fourth Street. And a large sign spanning horizontally across the traffic light ahead said just that.

"Uh, guys?" said Carlos. "Don't we turn at this light?"

"Fourth Street," James said, one hand protectively clutching the seatbelt across his torso and one hand holding up the map. "Yup, we turn left here."

"This is so illegal, this is so illegal, oh, this is _so_ illegal!" Logan said. His rocked his body back and fourth in his seat, chest heaving harder than before. He was well aware of the rules of the road, but never functioned appropriately while under severe pressure.

"Okay, okay," James said, obviously noticing that Logan was on the verge of losing it completely. "Just calm down, Logan, alright? See? The light ahead is green, but we don't have the arrow so we have to yield to the—WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Logan closed his eyes and sank back into his seat, screaming as he drifted across the oncoming lane of traffic. Not surprisingly, Carlos was unable to keep his balance, and he flopped upside down onto the seat of the car, limbs tangling in the air as he thrashed and flailed about, crying out repeatedly the entire time. Maybe a seatbelt would be a good idea.

James stuck out his hands and braced himself against the dashboard, gritting his teeth as the vehicle fishtailed around the corner, the revving engine and wailing tires mixing in with yet another collection of bleeping horns. Carlos pulled himself up just in time to see a minivan screech to a halt in order to avoid smashing into Mrs. Knight's Mercedes-Benz. Unfortunately, the driver behind it failed to stop, ramming hard into the back of the stationary vehicle. Glass shattering could be heard from half-way down the block.

"Woah, those guys just crashed!" Carlos exclaimed, pointing furiously.

"What?" said James, turning in his seat to get a look.

"Where do I go!" Logan cried, speeding down Fourth Street. He weaved past a taxi cab by briefly swerving into the opposite lane. His head whipped side to side as he frantically searched for a sign or marking to point him in the correct direction.

"Keep going straight," James instructed, getting back to his maps, which had scattered across the floor. His voice was wavering. "And slow down!"

"Yeah," Carlos agreed, leaning forward between the two seats. "You said you'd come with to keep us from killing ourselves."

"And I think me and Carlos could do a better job of driving than you are," added James.

"You were pressuring me!" Logan protested. The fingers curling around the wheel were trembling with anxiety as he slowly eased up on the gas pedal. "You know I'm sensitive to yelling. And you guys were just screaming at me and well I kinda panicked and now we're going to get arrested and go to jail and it's your fault because I told you we should have just stayed home—"

Logan also rambled when he was nervous.

Carlos placed a hand over his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. "Maybe we should review the rules of the road," he suggested, "that me and James seem to know better than you."

"Yeah, no kidding," grumbled James. "Red means stop, green means go, you drive on the right side of the road, you have a turning signal for a reason, and the speed limit is only thirty-five, so _slow down_!"

He barely had time to get his words out before Logan sucked in a deep breath of air and removed one hand from the wheel to gesture to the side of the road. "There's a sign for the interstate," he said. "Where do I turn? Where do I go? Oh man, we are so going to jail…"

James craned his neck and gazed ahead through the glare of streetlights. His eyes lit up and he pointed. "Turn here! There's the ramp."

Logan shook his head, also sticking a finger out. "No, that's the turn off to go south. We have to go north." The car kept moving forward.

"Then what are you doing?" asked James. "Get in the turning lane!"

"I am! This is a double turn, there's two—"

Carlos screamed, flinging himself between his two friends. "TRUCK, TRUCK!" He reached over Logan and grabbed the wheel, giving it a hard jerk to the right. The truck driver laid into his horn as the car narrowly missed being crumpled like a piece of paper.

"Put your seatbelt on!" Logan scolded again, pushing Carlos backwards.

He fell back on his bottom as Logan guided the vehicle onto the ramp, actually remembering to flip on his blinker. Carlos dared to look over his shoulder, seeing the few cars behind keep a wary distance.

"Speed up," James said to Logan.

"You just told me to slow down!"

"Yeah, well, you can't go fifty on the interstate!"

Logan whimpered and applied a bit more force to the gas, checking his blind spot before whizzing past a Suburban. He accelerated to sixty-five and hung close to the right. An endless stretch of pavement laid ahead, dotted with red taillights.

Silence in the interior of the car.

James was so rigid in his seat that Carlos wondered if he was paralyzed in fear. The maps in his hand finally tumbled from his fingers and fluttered onto the floor. Carlos himself had his mouth hanging wide open, still slightly traumatized from nearly being plowed by a semi. "Are we alive?" he squeaked.

James blinked slowly, then nodded his head. "I-I think so." He paused for a moment, breathing deeply. Then he leaned over and punched Logan in the shoulder, hard. "Did you feel that?"

"Ow!" the driver cried. "What was that for?"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK IT WAS FOR?" James screamed.

"You almost killed us!" Carlos added, also reaching forward to give Logan a smack.

Logan frowned. "Sorry," he muttered. At least he seemed to handle driving on the interstate better than in town. "At least we're alive, right?"

James sighed, casting his eyes out the window. "Only five hundred forty-seven miles to go."


	7. Taillights

**A/N: Hooray for fast updates! I'd kind of been working on this chapter between some of the others, because this chapter, though it may not seem like it right now, is actually pretty important, and I knew it would take a lot of work to get it to my perfection. I'm really pleased with the final results. It's kind of a break from the silliness that went on in chapter 6, and we get some insight on how poor Logan's feeling. The boy is a walking contradiction when he's confused! Anyway, the italicized quotes are things that Kendall has said in previous episodes of 'BTR', but I'm sure you could have figured that out. ;)  
As always, your reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading! :D**

**Warnings: Angst.**

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Chapter 7  
Taillights

"_Big Time Rush always sticks together."_

Logan had never seen the interstate so barren of vehicles. At times it seemed like he was the only one on the road, driving on an infinite sea of black. He had seen a few cars roll past on the other side of the highway heading southward, though there were currently no headlights blaring brightly in his rearview mirror, and no red taillights shining in front of him.

James and Carlos were both asleep, James with his seat slightly reclined, head turned towards the door. The gentle lull of the vehicle caused Carlos to nod off in the backseat; his knees were pulled to his chest and one arm sagged limply to the side. His mouth hung open wide, making a tiny puddle on the seat.

Logan sighed. His eyes were also feeling heavy. He glanced at the dashboard clock, noting it was coming on two in the morning. The radio was playing a slow song, just loud enough to be audible.

He had become a bit more at ease behind the wheel. Logan had gone through his behind-the-wheel drivers' training programs and successfully earned his learners' permit; he wasn't a total stranger to the rules of the road. Driving through town was probably the most frightening thing he'd ever done, but at least now that he was a ways away from Los Angeles and the traffic had considerably lightened, he felt much more comfortable. Still, he maintained a wary speed of sixty-five miles per hour, cautiously letting up on the gas pedal when a rare car would pass him. By toying with some buttons and switches on the car, Logan managed to locate the headlights, air conditioning, windshield wipers, and the mirror adjustments. Everything in Mrs. Knight's car was set to his comfort.

From beside him, James let out a light snore, stirring a bit in his slumber. Logan looked at him, studying the way his chest rhythmically rose and fell. James was out like a light. Logan shifted his eyes to check on the road before turning his head to catch a glimpse of Carlos. The Latino, helmet still protecting his head, rested soundly.

Logan faced forward, sucking in a jittery breath and gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. Seeing James and Carlos asleep so deeply unnerved him. He wanted to know how they could be so calm and confident about the current state of affairs. They acted like they had absolutely no doubt that Kendall's reason for leaving was significant and selfless.

Logan shivered. For the sake of his own well being, he tried to forget about Kendall, though that notion proved difficult since Logan desperately wanted to remember. He understood it would be best to put aside all his negative thoughts and doubts about Kendall and force himself to be hopeful and optimistic like James and Carlos. The only problem was Logan's personality, which wasn't as sanguine. What he really needed to do was just go to a quiet place and think. He needed to sort out his thoughts and figure out what he really believed. Did Kendall leave for some sort of significant purpose? Or did he just pack up and hit the road because he was sick of where his life was headed?

Unfortunately, the quietness in the car allowed Logan his time to ponder.

"_Oh little Logie. So pessimistic."_

James and Carlos had a point when they said Kendall would never just run away. The guys had all known each other since preschool. Right from the start, Kendall was their unspoken leader, conjuring cunning, spur of the moment schemes to get the guys out of trouble, or coming to their defense when no one else would. Kendall was the one who could handle a little pressure (unlike Logan) and keep his cool composure through the most dismal situations. Kendall put his friends and family first and foremost in his life. He constantly encouraged teamwork and togetherness, and the fact that the guys needed to look out for one another. He invested extra time to help James with his slapshot, took the fall for Carlos when he got in a little too much trouble, and beat up the bullies bothering Logan. He helped his mother raise Katie, even though he was still a kid himself. He took a job the day he turned sixteen to help pay off things around the house, considering single mom Mrs. Knight worked as a waitress.

"_We're best friends. We never turn our backs on each other."_

The bottom line was, Kendall was the least selfish person on the face of the earth. But despite all that knowledge, Logan continued to have a sense of suspicion. The biggest, most important question had yet to be answered: why?

Logan gritted his teeth, shifting in his seat. He glanced into his mirrors, noting the road was still deserted. Setting his jaw, his fingers curled tighter around the wheel.

Really, there was no evidence that proved Kendall ran away for some sort of justified reason. It was all speculation. Logan needed something solid and concrete. His logic and rationality was always trusting, therefore he refused to rely solely on his supposed familiarity of his friend's character to decide if Kendall was innocent. Because what if Kendall _wasn't _the person they all thought he was? The only piece of actual, true evidence, was the letter. The small, six word note left on Kendall's pillow saying he was sorry. Was that supposed to make everything better? By saying _sorry_? Was that supposed to remedy Kendall's actions?

As far as Logan was concerned, Kendall's meager apology was incriminating evidence. James and Carlos were perhaps too credulous to realize it, but Logan was not.

Logan felt his heart beat a little faster. Suddenly uncomfortable, he fidgeted until he found a more suitable position, forgetting about James and Carlos asleep. Luckily, the rustling of Logan's clothes and the crunch of the leather seat did not wake them. His vision began to blur, and he wiped at his eyes.

_Why_? Why would Kendall just pack his things and leave? James and Carlos couldn't even think of a good excuse. They couldn't come up with a single, decent reason why Kendall would leave. How was Logan supposed to trust them if they could hardly defend their reasoning?

"_A life without risk is a life unlived, my friend."_

Logan sniffled. Granted, he _did_ agree to go with James and Carlos. The way they talked, the hopeful looks on their faces, their delighted excitement—everything had him thinking for a second or two that James and Carlos were right for once. That the address in James's pocket was significant. That Kendall was chained up in the back of Fred Baker's bakery, or had stopped by for a slice of bread, or was at least someway connected with the mysterious man.

Logan never took well to peer pressure.

He was sitting behind the wheel of Mrs. Knight's car. Mrs. Knight, the woman who had acted like a second mother to him. Mrs. Knight, the most kind person Logan knew. Mrs. Knight, the woman who loved her kids more than anything in the world.

So what was so wrong in Kendall's life? What was wrong with having a mother and sister who cared about him so much? What was wrong with having three friends who considered him a brother? What was wrong with having a beautiful, attentive girlfriend?

The only things Logan could presume were discouraging. Like, maybe Kendall was sick of being the leader. Sick of being in charge all the time, and having to look after the guys and bail them out of trouble. Maybe he was fed up with living with them; sharing a roof, sharing a mother, sharing a sister. Maybe he was too stressed about work. Recording all day could certainly take its toll, and Kendall also had his relationship with Jo to keep in balance. Perhaps he was under the assumption that he had to be strong all the time. Maybe, Kendall somehow got the idea that because he was the leader, he couldn't tell his friends that he couldn't take this anymore.

"_We've always promised since we were pee-wee hockey players that we would stick together."_

Kendall had left them all. And now, Logan, James and Carlos were no different than Kendall. They were packing up and leaving, with nothing but a small, apologetic note in their stead. They had taken Mrs. Knight's car, abandoned her and Katie, and were traveling through the state with only a couple hundred dollars, a change of clothes, James's beauty products, Carlos's backpack of unnecessary underwear, and an address slip that was probably nothing.

Logan realized he was holding the steering wheel so strongly, his knuckles had turned white. He instantly loosened his grip, flexing his aching fingers. The speedometer told him he was now going eighty-five miles per hour.

He let out a small gasp and applied the brakes. The car slowed dramatically. He veered to the shoulder of the road, stopped the car and put it in park, though left the engine running. He knew he should switch his emergency lights on, but he didn't care. Logan leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the wheel, eyes stinging with tears.

"Mmmph…" James murmured. He yawned. "Are we there yet?" There was a rustling in the backseat, signaling that the sudden lack of continuous motion caused Carlos to wake as well.

Logan made a small whimpering noise. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing away his unshed tears. His heart ached, his stomach hurt, and his head throbbed. This was so stupid. If Kendall wanted to leave, they should have let him. Who were they to bring him back home so he could be unhappy?

"Hey." Logan was vaguely aware of a hand resting on his shoulder. "You okay?" James's voice was rough and hoarse from sleep, but the concern in his tone was still noticeably present.

Logan took a deep breath and managed to lift his head, shrugging away James's touch. He settled back into his seat, rubbing the tears out of his eyes. He focused his misty gaze through the windshield, staring at the dark road ahead. "Guys, what are we doing?" His throat was so tight with emotion that he could barely get his words out.

James narrowed his eyebrows and answered slowly. "We're going to find Kendall."

Carlos yawned, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth. "Wha's goin' on?" He was ignored.

"No, I mean what are we _really _doing?" Logan said to James. He raised his voice slightly more than he had intended. "We stole Mrs. Knight's car. We're driving without licenses through parts of California we've never seen. We caused a car accident back in LA, we've probably got cops after us, and to top it all off, we're going after Kendall, who may or may not even want to be found!" His voice rose more and more which each word until he was practically shouting, earning a surprised jump from James. The brown-haired boy was briefly taken aback, but quickly recovered.

"Hey, I thought we agreed that Kendall would never just run away," James said. "There's another reason-"

"No, James, we don't _know_ that!" Logan snapped. He threw his hands up in exasperation. "We don't _know_ what Kendall was thinking. Maybe he got sick of us! Maybe he wanted to leave!" As an unexpected tear rolled down Logan's cheek, he took a deep breath to calm himself. James looked like he had been slapped in the face, and Logan turned his head away. "Maybe… he doesn't want to be found," Logan whispered.

The interior of the vehicle fell into silence. The radio, still switched on, played no song, just a tiny buzz of static that could hardly be heard. Carlos was quiet in the backseat, sitting now upright, but not moving.

James finally exhaled, loudly. "That's what we're going to find out, man." He patted the pocket which contained the address slip.

Logan let out a sob. Feeling his face flush, he covered it up with a sarcastic grunt. "Yeah, and let's say Kendall _did_ run away for some stupid reason, and we _do _find him, and he _doesn't_ want to come back. _Then_ what?" He furiously wiped at more tears.

"Well that's a dumb question," Carlos piped up. Logan rotated in his seat along with James, and Carlos shrunk back at their stares. He cleared his throat. "I mean, if all that stuff you're thinking is true…" He shrugged innocently. "Then we'll help him."

Logan sighed, running a hand over his face. His racing heart was beginning to regain its normal pace, and as the burning in his eyes slowly subsided, his eyelids reverted to feeling like lead. He closed them, nestling back into his seat. The jacket over his arms made his body warm and secure, and he wanted nothing more than to slip off into a dreamless sleep so he could forget about everything for a while.

"Look, Logan…" James finally said. Logan opened his eyes, but refused to meet James's. He peered out the window, watching as a yellow light flooded over the inside of the car. A large semi truck zoomed past; the first vehicle Logan had seen in a while. When the taillights disappeared into the distance, James continued. "We've pretty much talked about all the possibilities here. The bottom line is, either Kendall is at this address or he isn't. Personally, I believe he's fallen into the clutches of an evil baker." He paused, as if expectantly awaiting a response from the boy in the drivers' seat. When he didn't get one, James heaved a sigh and kept on. "But, I think, as Kendall would say… Whatever happens, happens. We're in this together. And we can't give up."

Logan shook his head. "How do we know Kendall hasn't given up on _us_?"

"Do you really believe that?" Carlos asked from the backseat.

"I don't know what to believe," Logan admitted.

James unclipped his seatbelt and leaned forward to face Logan in full, even though Logan still wouldn't look at him. "Okay. You can say whatever, Logan. But I _know_ you don't believe Kendall would just leave. There has to be something. You're thinking it too, because if you weren't, then you wouldn't be driving right now."

James had a valid point. But wanting to believe and actually believing were two different things entirely.

"Besides," James said, gesturing to the clock, "we're like, two hours from home already. It would be stupid to turn around now."

"Okay, so say we get to the bakery," Logan snapped, finally facing his friend. "We arrive, and for whatever reason, Kendall's there. And he doesn't want to come back with us." Logan made sure to turn to Carlos. "And he doesn't want our help. Who are we to deny him of happiness? Maybe Kendall wants to be away from us."

James rolled his eyes. "Can you stop thinking up these ridiculous situations?" he reproached. "That's not going to happen."

"It might," Logan argued, taking offense at James's over-confidence. "Maybe Kendall has some sort of psych thing going on, you know?"

Carlos wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Kendall isn't psychic." He stopped, and his eyes widened. "Or maybe he is!" Carlos cried, leaning forward in excitement. "Guys! That must be why he left. He saw some premonition thing and had to go stop it. That's why his note said he had to—"

Logan cut Carlos off before he got his spirits any higher. "No, no. I said a psych thing, not psychic."

"Oh." Carlos's face fell, and he crossed his arms. "Well, what do you mean then?"

"Psych as in psychological," Logan patiently explained. He had to remember he was talking to the kid who sucks the chocolate off of peanut M&Ms and saves the nut for a later snack. "Maybe Kendall has some mental illness or something that's interfering with his logic—"

This time, James interrupted, voice dark and flat. "Kendall doesn't have a mental illness."

James could deny it all he wanted, but Logan knew it was a rational possibility. The boys fell into silence yet again, the dull crackling on the radio becoming more perceptible. Logan frowned and flipped a switch on the dashboard, ceasing the incessant noise. The car still motionless, Logan rested his hands on the steering wheel. His muscles were achy from being so tense all day, and all his worries had exhausted his body. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stay awake.

"Logan," Carlos finally said in a whispery voice. Logan flipped around in his seat to look at his friend. Carlos's eyes were trained on the floor of the vehicle, one hand fiddling with the strap hanging from his helmet. "I'm scared too, you know."

Logan stared at him for a couple moments. "You don't act like it," he murmured.

Carlos shrugged. "I just have a little more faith than you do." He sighed and looked up, placing his hand on Logan's shoulder. "You're right, buddy. This whole address thing _is _a long shot. But how would you feel if we were sitting at home doing nothing?"

"What would Kendall do if one of us had left?" James added.

Logan snorted. That was probably one of the easiest questions to answer: Kendall would go find them.

Outside, another car rolled past. Shadows crisscrossed over the inside of the vehicle, yellow beams lighting up the unusually earnest look on Carlos's face, and the determined one on James's. As Carlos withdrew his hand, Logan closed his eyes and shook his head back and fourth. Sometimes he really thought he needed new friends. If he didn't have James and Carlos suckering him into their bright ideas, his life would be so much more stress-free. But no. Some divine power decided to place him on Earth with a naïve, reckless, impulsive helmet-wearer and a dramatic, occasionally conceited fashion plate with an annoying sense of fortitude.

Logan huffed a sigh for the hundredth time. It was a good thing his wishes were never granted, because he hadn't a clue what he would do without Carlos and James.

"Be lucky I love you guys," Logan muttered. He made sure his seatbelt was snug, then put the car into drive. He instinctively looked over his shoulder before pulling onto the road, though another vehicle couldn't be seen.

"So we're good?" James wondered, buckling up.

Not really. But it was too late to turn back now. Besides, James and Carlos were stubbornly certain Kendall's reason for leaving was legitimate. If they wanted get their hopes high, Logan would let them. He couldn't say anything to get them to change their minds, anyway. "Yeah. We're good."

James smirked, reaching over and giving Logan a pat to the shoulder. "Alright, sweet," he said. "Wake me when we get there."

"Oh, no," Logan said. "If you guys want me to keep driving, I need to sleep for a little bit."

Carlos leaned forward between the two front seats, nearly close enough to touch the windshield. "What? No! We can't!"

Logan took a hand off the wheel to give Carlos a gentle push backwards. "Dude, put your seatbelt on," he chided. He didn't want a repeat of what had happened a few hours ago.

Carlos ignored him. "Kendall could be in trouble right now. We have to find him as soon as possible!"

Logan pressed down on the accelerator, closing in on his steady pace of sixty-five. "And we're never going to be able to do that if I fall asleep behind the wheel and we crash and die."

"Good point," James said with a nod.

Carlos smacked his arm. "Don't side with him."

"Carlos, sit down," Logan said again.

The boy in the backseat pouted like a two-year-old, rolling his eyes and flopping back on his bottom. He fumbled for his lap belt, angrily snapping it across his waist. "Then at least let me drive. That way you can sleep and we can switch again when you're rested."

"No," Logan and James replied simultaneously.

"Why not?" Carlos demanded to know.

"The words 'Carlos' and 'driving' should never be in the same sentence," Logan said matter-of-factly.

"I've driven a snowmobile before," Carlos pointed out. "It can't be that different from driving a car."

Logan rubbed at his eyes in irritation before focusing back on the road. "Look, I'll take the next exit and we'll pull off somewhere secluded. We can all sleep for a couple hours and get up at, say, four. Then I'll have gotten a little bit of sleep, and I should be good to drive, okay?"

James reluctantly shrugged, and Logan awaited confirmation from Carlos. The Latino at long last muttered, "Fine," though he seemed grudged.

As Logan continued driving, searching for an exit, James inclined forward to flip the radio back on. Some soft music floated in from the speakers, the beauty of the acoustic guitars absorbing Logan into a cold cloud of lament.

A tear slipped from his eye, and he wiped at it frantically, hoping no one saw. He was more frustrated now than anything, because James and Carlos were being so strong and confident, and here he was crying like an idiot.

Logan clenched his fists around the wheel, finally seeing an exit just ahead. In his blurred, peripheral vision he caught James glancing over at him. Logan ignored it, flipping on his blinker and pulling onto the ramp. When he slowed and came to the end of the road to pause at a stop sign, he spotted another marker. A town called Hermanville was eight miles east. Sniveling, Logan turned right, his headlights illuminating the sign as he passed it by.

He sobbed.

Darn it, why was he _crying_? Carlos and James weren't, so he shouldn't be either, right? Kendall wouldn't cry. Kendall never cried. He was the toughest and calmest of them all, saying that tears were inane and didn't help a thing, so really, there was no point to crying at all. It was illogical. It was senseless. It was… _stupid_.

But he couldn't stop. Shoot! Why couldn't he knock it off? Big, hot drops were raining down his cheeks and rolling off his chin, whimpers and gasps were spilling from his mouth. His heart was so far up his throat that it was beating against his tonsils, and each swallow he took made him nearly choke.

James was staring at him. Logan could feel his concerned gaze start to burn a hole in the side of his head. He blushed furiously, doing his best to concentrate on the road. There wasn't a vehicle in sight. The headlights of Mrs. Knight's car was the only sign of life on the inky plane. There was turn breaking off from the highway, and Logan took it before reaching up to swipe his sweater sleeve across his cheeks and nose. They didn't stay dry for long.

Gravel crunched noisily underneath the tires, and after spending two hours on the interstate, driving thirty-five seemed wearyingly slow. He kept the car going for a good mile before a cluster of skeletal-looking trees appeared off to the left. It seemed like a decent enough place to conceal the car for a couple hours, so Logan pulled off. There was no ditch on either side of the road, just a stretch of bumpy grass.

James and Carlos both jumped slightly (no doubt remembering the events that occurred back in town) as the car bounced up and down on the uneven field. Logan thought nothing of the possible PTSD he had inflicted upon his friends and continued onward, the beams ahead jolting with the movement of the car. The dark trees reminded him of a horror movie. He may have been concerned about a serial killer in a hockey mask bursting through the brush with a bloody butcher knife, but then decided if he couldn't prevent himself from crying, at least he could try to push away his paranoia.

A row of low shrubs spanned across the tree line. Logan drove the car forward, swinging in behind the protective wall. Figuring it was good enough, he rolled his window down just a crack and switched off the car, tossing the keys atop the dashboard. The stillness and the silence was unfamiliar to his ears.

Wiping his eyes, Logan unclipped his seatbelt and turned in his seat, resting his head against the cool glass of the window. "Night," he murmured.

There was a series of tiny beeps in the backseat as Carlos presumably set the alarm on his watch.

"Hey," James said.

Logan figured his friend was speaking to Carlos until he felt a gentle hand on his upper arm. With a tiny sigh he lifted his head and looked into James's eyes. The taller boy didn't say anything else, and he didn't need to. Logan nodded and was about ready to resume attempting to sleep when two arms latched around his seat, squeezing tightly across his torso. A ghost of a smile spanned Logan's lips as he gave Carlos's hands a pat. The Latino held on a few moments longer, then wordlessly released his hold and found a comfortable position sprawled across the back seat.

Logan mentally thanked him. He needed that.

Even though he had countless fears plaguing his spinning mind, Logan found that sleep came easy to him, especially with his skin still tingling with the memories of his friends' touches. He was out as fast as he had cut the engine.


	8. A Long Trip

**A/N: Mmk, so here's the deal. This chapter is pretty lighthearted. And honestly, the next few chapters are going to be that way, too. Because the guys are on a road trip, and, well, they're bound to get into some crazy antics. But as a warning, about halfway through the story (and I will tell you when that time approaches), the tone changes dramatically and things get pretty dark. I felt like I should let you guys know since most of these chapters have been pretty comical. So. Enjoy these happy moments. :P**

**Also, I am soooo sorry for how long this update took! School, life, finger injuries and writers block has kept me away D: So bear with me on this chapter.**

**Warnings: Pants-less Carlos.**

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Chapter 8  
A Long Trip

_Beep beep beep beep beep…_

"_Kendall_!"

James's eyes shot open wide, his entire body giving a harsh jolt as he snapped awake.

"What? What happened?" Logan exclaimed, words slurring together as he also woke. His head twisted around every which way in his disorientation, fist automatically thrusting upwards to fend off potential danger.

James panted hard, blinking rapidly to allow his bleary eyes to focus. When they did, he was greeted by a black sky from the other side of the windshield and an incessant beep that rang annoyingly in his ears. He could feel hot sweat dripping down the sides of his burning face, could feel the sticky cling of his t-shirt to his body. His heart was thumping so intensely against his chest he swore he felt a rib crack…

_Beep beep beep beep beep…_

"Mmph," Logan muttered, stretching his limbs as best as he could manage in the confines of the car. He spoke through a yawn, snaking an arm backwards to give Carlos's knee a nudge. "Carlos, wake up."

It took James a moment to realize it was the Latino's watch making the noise, its alarm alerting them to the time: four o'clock AM. Carlos murmured something inaudible and attempted to roll over. Unfortunately, he seemed to forget he wasn't in the comfort of his own bed, and toppled gracelessly off the seat. He dropped hard onto the car floor, head thankfully protected by his hockey helmet.

Logan cringed, seemingly ignoring Carlos's hapless situation for the moment, and instead faced the front yet again. "You okay?"

James blinked. "What?" He was still attempting to calm himself down.

"Bad dream?"

Slightly surprised that Logan had figured him out so quickly, James nodded his head, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped. Tears were threatening to spring into his eyes, the urge to break down and cry gnawing at him due to his nightmare being so unpleasantly lucid. But no. He couldn't do that. Maybe in front of Carlos, but not in front of Logan.

Luckily, a series of distractions began to occur, starting with Carlos drowsily cutting off the noise from his watch. The boy in the backseat groaned, still laying on his stomach on the floor, and groped for the door handle. He succeeded and gave it a hard shove, a gush of chilly air bursting into the interior of the vehicle. James shivered as Carlos picked himself up, and with half-lidded eyes, proceeded to crawl out of the car on all fours.

James exchanged glances with Logan, who merely had his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Carlos mumbled incoherently to himself as his body hit the grass. He toppled out, rolled a few times, then slowly and awkwardly climbed to his feet. Even in the dark James could see the damp grass and flecks of dirt sticking to Carlos's clothes as he stumbled on the uneven ground, making his way towards the gnarled row of dense shrubs that spanned across a thick tree line.

"What's he doing?" Logan wondered, squinting. He grabbed the car keys, stuck them into the ignition and flipped on the headlights, the bright beams slicing across the night.

As James began to recover from the initial shock of his nightmare, he figured he might as well get out and walk around a bit to stretch his muscles before the three of them hit the road for Warrick. Logan probably wanted to get as much traveling done as possible before the morning traffic flared up.

Taking one last, jittery breath, James pulled the lever on the side of his seat and situated it out of its reclined position before grabbing the door handle. Logan followed, leaving the headlights on as he exited the vehicle.

James inhaled the crisp air, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket. The morning air hitting his sweaty body gave him a strange yet invigorating sort of feeling. He looked up to see a beautiful starry sky—something he hadn't witnessed in a while. Living in the city made it difficult to marvel at such a splendor.

He stuck his hands into his pockets, eyes heavy from only two hours of fitful sleep, and moved to the front of the car. He propped himself against the hood between the two headlights. In front of him, on the edge of the path of the beams, Carlos approached a bush and worked at the zipper of his jeans.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Logan's voice suddenly said.

James turned his head, seeing his friend standing off to the left of the car.

"No," replied James. He really didn't want to think about it at all.

"But it was about Kendall, wasn't it?" Logan asked. James must have looked surprised, because Logan said, "You screamed his name when you woke up."

Blush crept into his cheeks. He didn't know he had yelled that aloud. James cleared his throat, heart speeding up again at the memory of the horrible images his mind had concocted. "Yeah," he murmured. He shivered again, hugging his arms around his torso for warmth. The breeze had the trees rustling their ancient branches and sent ripples rolling through the grassy field.

"Hey, guys!" Carlos called, sounding wide awake.

James looked up and squinted, seeing the helmeted boy grinning broadly and holding a weed high over his head. "Look at this pretty flower I found!"

Logan chuckled. "Are you done using the bush?" he asked. "Because we should probably get going."

As Carlos skipped over with his discovery, James dug into his back pocket and revealed a comb. He ran the piece of plastic through his hair, working out the waves and tangles that had formed from sleep. He really couldn't understand why Logan and Carlos chose to have their hair so short. The tickly sensation of tugging a comb through his locks was one of the best feelings in the world.

"Look," Carlos said as he approached his two friends. He stuck out the plant and smiled lopsidedly. It was a tall plant, the green stem at least two feet long with stringy, scraggly roots sprouting from the bottom where it had been ripped from the earth. Small yellow flowers bloomed along the top half of the stem, like a cluster of tiny suns.

"It's goldenrod," Logan observed, knowledge coming from the thousand of books he had read in his life.

"I like it," Carlos said. He held it to his nose and inhaled deeply, then coughed. "I'm keeping it."

James laughed. "Okay," he said, pocketing his comb. "We ready to hit the road?"

"Don't you guys need to go?" asked Carlos. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

"I'll pass," said James.

"Me too." Logan made a face.

Carlos shrugged. The three teens piled back into the car, taking their previous seats. James slammed his door shut and immediately reached for the dashboard to get some warm air circulating through the vehicle. "Good job leaving your door open, Carlos," he muttered. "Now it's freezing in here."

"It's not too bad," said Carlos, situating himself in the back. He laid his helmet and flower on the seat beside him.

Logan peered over his shoulder as he was about to take the car out of park. "You got your seatbelt on?"

"Affirmative, boss." Carlos gave an animated salute.

The drive back to the gravel road was uncomfortable and had James tensing every muscle in his body as the car bounced over the bumpy field. Mrs. Knight needed to invest in a new shock absorber.

Carlos seemed to think it was fun, as he giggled girlishly the entire way and threw his hands in the air like he was on a carnival ride. Logan finally pulled the car onto the rocky stretch and headed back to the highway. Like the night before, there wasn't a single vehicle anywhere. James expected to see a light shining somewhere in the dark signaling the existence of a distance farmhouse, but even those seemed to be absent.

At least Logan was handling the vehicle better than he had in town. The smaller boy drove like a professional, hands securely on the wheel at the ten and two o'clock position, frequently glancing into his mirrors, never forgetting to check his blindspot or flip a blinker.

Logan suddenly sneezed, the car jerking slightly to the side.

"I'm hungry," Carlos whined. "What's for breakfast?"

"It's four in the morning," Logan said, sniffling and wiping at his nose. James hoped he wasn't falling ill.

"Yeah, but we just woke up. Which means it's breakfast time," Carlos deduced. James could hear him rifle around in the backseat. "Didn't we pack food?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess we kind of forgot about that, huh?" said James.

"Great," Carlos groaned. "Now we're going to starve."

The road suddenly became much more smooth, thanks to Logan finally getting onto the short stretch of paved road leading to the interstate. The driver frowned. "Well we can't stop," he said. "If you guys want to find Kendall so badly we'll need to actually get to the bakery. And to do that, we need to drive."

"But it'll only take a second," Carlos insisted. "Just go to the next gas station."

"No," Logan said.

Carlos huffed a sigh and pretended to cry.

"That may work on Kendall, but it never works on me," Logan reminded him.

Carlos sobbed louder. Logan remained rigid.

"Aw, come on, Logan," said James, coming to Carlos's defense. "We'll need to get food eventually. And now's the best time to do it because Mrs. Knight probably doesn't know we're gone, so she hasn't called the cops yet."

Logan seemed to consider James's words. Carlos ceased his mock tears and gazed hopefully at the front seat. No one spoke again until the car was once again on the interstate, heading north. Logan stuck out a finger and pointed to a directional sign on the side of the road. "A town is coming up in twenty-two miles. We'll stop there, okay?" He paused, then added, "But then we're not stopping for a while. We'll never get to Warrick at this pace."

Carlos gave a whoop of appreciation, then decided to go about caressing his goldenrod.

James flipped the radio on, yawning. His thoughts drifted over to Kendall, wondering what the blond was doing right now. Was Kendall thinking about them, too? Was he alright?

James remembered his nightmare and shuddered. In his dream, he had been standing in a flat field. The rugged landscape was barren of trees or homes. Rocky outcrops protruded from the dusty soil, surrounded by round clumps of grass. It spanned forever, the brown earth eventually meeting with the bright, red and orange-streaked horizon. Kendall stood only a few feet ahead. But he didn't look like Kendall. Instead of a lively green, the stranger's eyes were dark and hollow, sunken far back into his skull like a figure out of a grotesque painting. James watched him intently, reaching out a hand to help his friend. But Kendall backed away. Slowly, at first, until his body blocked out the light of the sunset and he appeared only as a blobby silhouette. More and more Kendall moved back, ignoring the frantic screams coming from James and he begged and pleaded for Kendall to stop.

Then Kendall was gone, absorbed into the blood-red sky, not even a shadow left behind.

Rustling in the backseat snapped James out of his thoughts. He shook his head, hoping to clear away the horrible feelings sitting in his gut. A while back, Logan obsessed over interpreting dreams, finding theories of symbolism fascinating. Of course, he never believed in physic powers, premonitions or fortunetelling, but he did stick to the notion that dreams were representations of something your own subconscious was trying to tell you.

James ran a hand over his face. Behind him, there was a light click as Carlos presumably removed his seatbelt. James rolled his eyes and turned to scold his friend. "Dude, put your—AH! AH! AHHH! MY EYES!" He instantly flipped back around, clapping a hand over his eyes. He continued to shout various exclamations, the image of what he had saw etched into his retinas forever.

"What?" asked Logan, also turning.

"No, Logan, don't!" James tried to warn.

It was too late. "AHHH! Carlos, what are you _doing_?" He nearly drifted into the other lane.

"Changing my underwear. Duh," the Latino replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I didn't bring a whole bag with for nothing."

James dug the heel of his hands into his eye sockets, hoping some miracle would allow him to erase away what he had witnessed.

"Really?" Logan said. "In the backseat of Mrs. Knight's car?"

"Well where else am I supposed to do it?" Carlos said. He finally sat up and fastened his lap belt after finishing dressing himself.

"You could give us a little warning next time," James muttered. "I think I'm scarred for life…"

Carlos rolled his eyes. "Oh come on. We use the same locker room."

"But that's different!"

"And Mrs. Knight used to give us baths together all the time."

"Yeah, when we were four!" Something abruptly smacked against James's face. He yelped and reached up, clawing away the garment. When he saw it was Carlos's discarded boxers, he screamed and tossed them over his shoulder. "AAHH! GET IT OFF!"

Carlos laughed and leaned forward, attempting to dangle the underwear in front of James for a second time. The taller boy recoiled in horror, swatting away Carlos's hand. The Latino chortled maniacally as he nearly collapsed against Logan's seat.

"You guys, cut it out!" Logan reprimanded. He pushed Carlos away from him when the vehicle began to drift sideways. "Don't make me pull this car over!"

The two boys immediately stopped what they were doing, Carlos crossing his arms and pouting like a little kid. James huffed a frustrated sigh and began to once again absentmindedly run his lucky comb through his hair. As he smoothed out the parts that had been ruffled from the brief quarrel with Carlos, James wondered when he himself would get a chance to change his clothes, properly style his hair, take some sort of shower, and go through the rest of his usual morning routine.

It was a surprisingly quiet twenty minute ride. As the boys came upon the next town, Carlos, obviously antsy, squirmed restlessly in his seat. Being the bouncing ball of energy he was, Carlos could never sit still for very long. And they had about six hours to go before they arrived in Warrick and interrogated Fred Baker.

James had to wonder what a baker had to do with Kendall running away. He really hadn't the slightest clue. But it had to be something. If Kendall wasn't there, odds are he had been there at one point in time, or was on his way. Frowning in thought, James fished around in his jeans pocket for the address slip. He held it in his hands and stared at the hurried handwriting, ignoring the purple stain from Carlos's gum. 1702 Weylin Road.

Logan turned off the freeway, sneezing, then took a left at the end of the ramp. There were lights in the near distance, the first sign of life they had seen for miles.

Finally, a car passed by on the opposite side of the highway, another indication they were close to a town.

"Hey," said Logan, stooping forward and squinting in the distance. "Looks like there's a truck stop ahead. They're open twenty-four hours, right?"

"I think so," James replied.

The remembrance of what had occurred in the Palm Woods parking lot was no doubt still present in Logan's mind, because when he turned into the truck stop lot he parked on the opposite side of the single car near the entrance. He took a deep breath before cutting the engine. "Let's make this fast."

Carlos ensured his flower and helmet were safely resting on the seat, then hopped out of the car. James immediately noticed something strange.

"Uh, Carlos?" he said. "Dude, you're not wearing any pants."

Logan snapped to attention at James's words. He turned to the Latino, then groaned and smacked his forehead.

"I know," replied Carlos, gazing down at his boxers. "But this is way more comfy."

"Aren't you cold?" asked James.

Carlos put his hands on his hips and inhaled deeply and dramatically. "I find the breeze oddly refreshing."

"Gross," murmured Logan.

Before James or Logan had a chance to further question Carlos's decision, Carlos was bouncing up to the front entrance of the building. Logan stopped him as he grabbed the door handle. "Whoa, you can't go in there without pants. You'll get us kicked out."

Carlos rolled his eyes and pointed to the sign on the outside of the door. "No shoes, no shirt, no service," he read. "It says nothing about pants."

"Nice," James said, bobbing his head at the logic. He and Carlos slapped five. James had to admit he was slightly tempted to remove his jeans as well, just to see if he could get away with it. But Logan was already sighing and pushing open the door, so James and Carlos shrugged at each other and followed.

A tiny bell jingled when the three entered. James's nose was instantly invaded by the scent of Juicy Fruit and cigarettes. The tobacco smoke brought him back to the restaurant in Minnesota where Mrs. Knight worked as a waitress. The boys had spent many hours indulging on free desserts and spinning on the bar stools at the front counter as they waited for Mrs. Knight's shift to end so she could take them to the hockey rink. Of course, the odor came from when they were younger and smoking was still legal in the diner. And the Juicy Fruit was just a bonus.

Feeling oddly nostalgic, James sauntered in behind Carlos, who made a beeline for the snack aisle. There was not another person in the small store aside from the lone employee at the front counter. The cashier was a big man, with a dark beard and eyebrows that would put Kendall to shame. Logan casually greeted the guy on his way past, but the man's confused eyes never left Carlos.

The Latino made haste of loading his arms with as many snacks as he could possibly manage, which included bags of chips and a wide assortment of candies. "Logan, want to grab something to drink? I can't carry anything else."

Logan sighed. "Yeah, fine." He glanced nervously at the employee, cheeks tinged pink.

James had to stifle a laugh. He knew Logan was frequently embarrassed by the antics of Carlos. But Logan nonetheless walked dutifully to the row of refrigerators spanning the back wall and grabbed a twelve-pack of water.

James figured Carlos was grabbing food only for himself, as he was the more voracious member of Big Time Rush. The taller boy waltzed to the snack section beside his friend and snagged a few packs of Fruit Smackers. He could always steal a few potato chips from Carlos if needed. As much as James loved food, it was hard for him to concentrate on his next meal when he was currently not hungry.

The teen in his underwear struggled to get to the front counter; he had great difficulty cradling the items so they didn't spill over, and staggered in a common maladroit fashion. When he finally reached his destination, with James trailing behind and Logan ambling over, Carlos stood on his tiptoes and plopped his snacks on the counter.

The cashier quirked a bushy brow. He glanced down at Carlos's lack of clothes, making a face.

"Don't ask," Logan murmured, grunting as he hoisted his pack of water next to Carlos's food. James tossed his snacks down as well, noting Carlos had about seven pouches of Fruit Smackers already in his assortment.

The employee shrugged. He began scanning the items.

Carlos patted his nonexistent pockets. "Uh, guys, I kinda left my wallet in my pants…"

"Of course you did," Logan muttered. He glared at his friend, who merely offered a toothy grin, and dug around in his back pocket.

The cashier wordlessly tapped the display screen which showed the amount of the purchase. Logan groaned. "You are so paying me back for this," he told Carlos.

Carlos and James chuckled amusedly, knowing Logan lacked the assertion to actually go about forcing Carlos to repay him.

The employee started to bag Carlos's items, packing away the chips and Cheese Puffs first. There was a small, rectangular box of miniature doughnuts that was stuck beside a container of gummies.

"Oh, yeah," remembered Carlos. "My doughnut is still under Kendall's bed."

James laughed. He had nearly forgotten about that. Even Logan chuckled lightly, not responding at all when the man stared at them even more.

The boys exited the store with five plastic bags. Again James shivered, early morning air pricking goose bumps along his skin. As Carlos clambered into the backseat beside his goldenrod and helmet, James took the opportunity to once again cast his eyes to the stars above. He wondered if Kendall was looking at the stars, too.

Then, another thought crossed his mind: what if Kendall came back? What if he was sitting at home right now, desperately needing the support of his friends, who were no where to be found?

The car door slamming shut forced James back to reality. He took his seat and buckled up, listening as Carlos situated himself in the back seat. The many bags crinkled loudly as they were lined along the car floor for easy access.

"Okay, are we ready to go?" asked Logan, jamming the keys into the ignition.

"Yeah!" Carlos whooped excitedly. "Let's go find Ken—" He abruptly cut off.

James and Logan exchanged glances. Both boys rotated in their seats. "What?" said James.

With a confused look on his face, Carlos looked down, his narrowed eyes scanning over the floor. "Huh. That was weird." He frowned, lifting a bag of snacks to check underneath. "I thought I felt something run over my feet—" He broke off with a shrill scream.

Logan jumped about two feet off his seat, hands flying clumsily in the air in a typical Logan fashion. Even James yelped in surprise, startled by Carlos's cry.

"What! What! What's wrong?" Logan asked worriedly.

Carlos lifted his feet off the ground, panting in fear. He scrambled to sit on his knees, fastening his helmet on his head and clutching his precious goldenrod for dear life. "Something's down there!" he exclaimed.

"What do you mean?" James asked, craning his neck to get a better look. He had to admit he was getting a little freaked out.

Carlos warily peered at the floor as the car fell into silence. James's heart thudded loudly in his ears as he wondered what in the world had Carlos so startled.

The bags rustled violently. Carlos gasped as a brown blur darted across the floor of the car. James unsuccessfully followed the mysterious shape with his eyes as it jumped up against Carlos's seat. "AAHHH!" the Latino screamed, scrambling for the door. "THERE'S A CHIPMUNK IN THE CAR!"

Both Logan and James looked at each other and shrieked simultaneously. A loud squeak emitted from the side. James barely turned his head before something small and furry crawled up the backside of his seat and latched itself to his hair. He cried out in horror and fright, groping for the creature with his hands. "GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!" Claws dug into his skin as the chipmunk let out a series of screeches and scrambled clumsily over his face.

James swatted at the rodent, to no avail. He swished his head side to side in attempts to throw the chipmunk off his head. It was no use.

A hand seized his forearm and tugged. He realized there was nothing to his right aside from a draft of cold air. Continuing to scream, he toppled out of the car and landed on his side on the hard pavement, gasping for breath as his furry predator finally relented. It scurried away into the darkness, leaving James a jittery mess on the ground.

"Dude!" Carlos's voice exclaimed.

"James!" Logan was beside him as well. "James, are you okay?"

Two strong hands clutched onto his arms and helped him to his feet. James barely processed any of it, his body trembling and heart beating even more violently than it had when he had awoke from his nightmare.

Logan was obviously just as flustered. "Oh my… Dude, t-there was—I mean, did you…" He stopped and sucked in a breath. "How did a chipmunk even get _in_ there?"

James could still feel the uncomfortable tickle of the chipmunk's fur and the prick of its toes against his skin. He shuddered, finding slight comfort when his two friends offered him encouraging pats to the back.

"Oh… It probably happened when I left the door open as I was using the bush," Carlos guessed. "It could've hid under my seat until just now."

Logan moved in front of James, so he appeared in the taller boy's dazed field of vision. He reached out to rest a comforting hand on James's shoulder. "Man, are you okay?" His words were convincing, but James could see a tiny smirk curving one corner of Logan's lips.

He nodded, gulping. "Y-Yeah, I think so…" James reached up, touching the tips of his fingers gingerly to his cheeks. He yelped. It was a good thing he also carried a mirror in his pockets. Quickly he lifted the mirror, dreading what he would see staring back at him.

His eyes widened. Along with his aghast expression, he saw the light lines of blood along his cheeks and chin, some even disappearing into his hair. He gasped loudly when he saw the disheveled mop atop his head. James fumbled into his other pocket for his lucky comb. "Look at me! I cannot go out in public looking like this!"

Logan and Carlos both groaned. They removed their hands from him and let their arms fall to their sides.

"James, you look fine," Logan assured as James furiously tugged his comb through his hair. "I mean, the scratches are… barely… noticeable…"

James glared at him. "I'm hideous!" he cried. This was horrible. No girl would find him attractive, no magazines would want his picture, no fans would want his autograph. He'd be kicked out of the band and no one would hire him elsewhere, because there were plenty other handsome men in the world. Did Logan not understand the severity of the situation? "Quick, guys, go back into the store and get me some concealer or something!"

Logan smacked his forehead.

"I don't know what that is," Carlos deadpanned.

Rubbing at his eyes, Logan asked, "Didn't you pack some in your bag? You brought along everything else."

James continued to examine his injuries in his mirror, not even bothering to glance up at his friends as he answered. "No, because I've only had to use concealer for unsightly pimples, and since I packed face wash I assumed I wouldn't need any, so I gave the extra space to my backup toothbrush—"

"Okay, okay," Carlos interrupted, sighing. "Let's just go."

"We're supposed to be finding Kendall," Logan reminded. "And we're already behind schedule."

James wished Logan understood the seriousness of what was happening. "But I can't let anyone see me like this!" he protested. He could feel his cheeks burn red, even though the guys didn't seem to mind he looked like a scrubby slob.

"Oh, fine," Logan gave in. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinized James's face. James shrank back in embarrassment. "We should probably buy some peroxide to clean those cuts." He smirked. "The chipmunk probably gave you rabies."

James and Carlos gasped in unison.

"What? James has rabies?" Carlos's worried eyes examined the taller boy as he took a cautious step backwards. "Oh no, James!"

"No, no," Logan said quickly. "I was joking, okay? He doesn't have rabies. Rodents are so small they probably wouldn't survive being infected—"

"_Probably_?" Carlos nearly shouted in fear. He began to breathe a little faster. "Oh no, oh no, this is just like that time we went camping and that deer went up to Logan and tried to—"

"You said you wouldn't talk about that ever again!" Logan growled. He closed his eyes and shuddered at the memory, then quickly changed the subject. "Come on, I'm sure truck stops have little first aid kits or something that we can buy."

James was thankful only the cashier was in the building as the boys made their way to the entrance for the second time. Nonetheless, James grabbed Carlos's shoulders and ducked down behind him as they entered, hoping to cover his face from the man at the counter. The man watched them intently, eyes going between Carlos's lack of pants, James's turned face, and the car outside.

Logan led them to an aisle in the back corner of the store. Sure enough, there was a first aid kit on one of the shelves.

Carlos didn't see it. "Hey," he called to the employee, "do you have anything for rabies?"

The guy gaped slightly, then shuffled backwards.

Logan punched Carlos on the arm. He turned to the man, chuckling nervously. "Haha, he's kidding."

When Logan paid for the supplies, the man was careful handing Logan his change. James continued hiding behind Carlos, praying Logan would hurry up so he could get the unappealing scratches patched up with aid from the smart boy's medical skills.

James was led to the back of the store where the scent of cigarettes and Juicy Fruit dissipated, and the smell turned into that of a wet shoe. Logan opened the door to the bathroom, which was a single room with a toilet, sink, mirror, and trashcan. The door closed behind them as the three boys entered, causing James to give a small jolt.

Carlos shrugged James away, moving to stand in the corner of the room. Logan used his shoe to flip the lid on the toilet. He grabbed the sleeve of James's shirt and forced him to sit.

"It's bad, isn't it?" James said with a sniffle. He could just imagine deep, ugly scars spanning his tanned skin, marring the perfection.

Logan unwrapped the kit from its packaging. He rifled inside, barely even glancing up. "No, it's not too bad. The scratches just barely broke the skin."

James breathed a sigh of relief.

Logan went about squeezing some sort of gel onto a Q-Tip. He placed one hand on the side of James's face to keep his head steady as the topical cream was gingerly applied. James hissed at the sting.

Logan quickly withdrew his hand. "Sorry, did that hurt?"

"A little." James set his jaw in determination. "Keep going."

Logan nodded. He squirted more gel onto the soft end of the applicator, then tentatively touched the cold substance to the wound. When he finished, James leapt to his feet and leaned over the sink, peering at his reflection.

"Logan," he whined, "it still looks the same!"

"Trust me, it'll heal," Logan replied, packing away the first aid kit. He looked over his shoulder at Carlos, standing sheepishly out of the way. "What's the matter?"

Carlos pressed himself against the dirty bathroom wall. "I don't want James to bite me."

It took many minutes to convince Carlos that James did not have rabies. Logan lectured about the effects of the disease and what signs to watch out for, making sure to point out James was displaying none of the symptoms. By the time the boys exited the restrooms, James's face was throbbing. As they left the store, the man at the front counter eyed them suspiciously. He said nothing.

The air outside seemed even colder as they crossed the parking lot. James cautiously slid into the car, wary of some other sort of creature popping out and mauling him. Logan tossed the medical supplies in the backseat next to Carlos's snacks while the Latino made sure his flower was safe.

As the engine roared to life, Carlos dug in and began to happily munch on a few Cheese Puffs. While reviewing the maps, Logan muttered something about how this was 'going to be a long trip,' then sneezed a few times. James checked underneath his seat for any more chipmunks.

Maybe they shouldn't have left home.


	9. Karma

**A/N: Ahhh, sorry for the wait! I've been having some major writers block issues lately. I know this update is pretty short considering how long I made you all wait. Sorry! Oh, and I also apologize if you reviewed and did not recieve a reply. My email was messed up again, but I think it's fixed now. I also need to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed. Please continue to do so! :D You motive me to write.**  
**Special thanks to my friend David who helped me develop the OC in this chapter. And to all you readers, just know that I am totally excited for chapter 11. It's going to be epic.**

**Warnings: Creepy gas station clerks.**

* * *

Chapter 9  
Karma

"I have to pee."

Logan and James groaned simultaneously.

"Carlos," Logan scolded. "We just stopped, like, an hour ago."

"We told you to go before we left!" James threw in.

Carlos fidgeted uncomfortably in the backseat. "But I didn't have to go then!" he whined. An involuntary high-pitched squeak escaped him, and he crossed his legs. "Guys, I _really _have to go."

Sensing a familiar tickle in his nose, Logan sneezed into the crook of his arm. He felt horrible. His eyes were itchy and wet and every passing moment made breathing more difficult. He managed to locate a box of travel tissues in the glove compartment of the car, but had already used up the few that remained. Even the sound of his voice was evident of congestion. James seemed especially nervous of Logan's apparent allergies, assuring the next time they stopped at a gas station they would pick up some over-the-counter antihistamines. The last thing they needed was to have to turn around and go back home only halfway into their journey because Logan was too sick to handle a vehicle.

Although it could be karma.

Logan glanced at the fuel gauge, noticing it would be time to fill up soon, anyway. "Carlos, can you hold it till the next town?"

Carlos bit down on his lower lip. He jiggled slightly where he sat. "How far is it?"

James, the navigator, pulled out his trusty MapQuest directions.

"We were near Hermanville at four," Logan calculated aloud. "We had that whole… _digression _at the truck stop, which took about half an hour. We've been on the interstate for a little over two hours, driving at approximately sixty-five miles per hour…" His sharp mind quickly plugged in numbers and computed proper mathematical formulas. "So we've gone about one hundred thirty miles from Hermanville on I-5."

James moved his slender finger up the map, using the scale as a reference. "Okay," he said, "so the next town we should come up on is a place called Colby. It'll probably be, like, 20 miles."

"How long is that?" asked Carlos.

Logan shrugged, using the back of his hand to run across his dripping nose. "Maybe fifteen to twenty minutes?" He glanced over his shoulder at the nervous Latino, who rocked back and fourth on his seat. "You going to make it?"

"Yeah, I think I can—Nope. No, not going to make it. Ugh, Logan, _please_ pull over!"

James sighed loudly and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Logan was slightly irritated himself. For the past hour he had been forced to listen to Carlos crunching away on a bag of Flamin' Hot Cheese Puffs. To prevent his tongue from burning, Carlos had washed down the fiery snack with three bottles of water from the twelve-pack Logan had purchased. And Carlos's bladder was the size of a pea the way it was.

Logan sighed. "Carlos, we can't pull over on the side of the interstate unless it's an emergency. It's a law." He checked every mirror, noting the traffic. He wasn't sure why he once thought driving on the freeway was frightening. It was a piece of cake.

"This _is_ an emergency," Carlos wailed. "Pull over!"

With an annoyed grunt, James reached backwards and rifled around the trash accumulating on the floor. "Don't we have an empty water bottle or something?"

"No, don't," Logan said immediately. "He'll miss and we'll have a mess to clean up."

"We're going to have a mess to clean up if you don't pull over in the next thirty seconds," Carlos insisted, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"Gah, Logan, just do it," James grumbled. He rested his head against the glass of the window and waved a hand in the air.

"But—" Logan started.

"Logan!" cried Carlos.

He relented, rolling his eyes. "Fine." Using proper technique, Logan pressed the button which flipped on his emergency flashers. He found it oddly amusing to watch the few cars behind him change lanes to give him some room for his maneuver. Logan slowly eased the car to the side of the road. Carlos had pushed open the door and was pulling down his pants before the car came to a complete stop.

Embarrassed by the looks he knew he was receiving from strangers whizzing past, Logan sank down low in his seat. He rubbed at his bloodshot eyes, groaning at the discomfort. He didn't care to think about what would happen if he became too ill. They'd have to call Mrs. Knight, listen to her either cry or yell or a combination of both, before she speeded over in her minivan with the cops in tow to haul the guilty teens back home for a vicious lecture. Maybe they'd go to jail. After all, it was Logan's fault those two cars crashed back in LA, and he broke dozens of traffic violations…

A horn honked.

James muttered something under his breath, but Logan didn't hear what. They were probably thinking the same thing. All it took was for one stranger who woke up on the wrong side of the bed to call in to a police station to complain about some idiot peeing on the side of the interstate to send them home.

Carlos reentered the car while puffing out a relieved breath of air. "Phew!" he sighed. "That was close. Okay, I'm ready to go now."

Logan, head stuffy and achy and now throbbing with vexation, began to pull back onto the road as James whipped around angrily in his seat. "Good job, Carlos! Now we just attracted all sorts of attention to ourselves!"

Carlos raised his eyebrows. "I thought you liked attention."

"Not when we're supposed to be finding Kendall!"

Carlos frowned in thought. As he pondered, he absentmindedly stroked his fingers over the smooth leaves of the goldenrod plant. James's eyes widened. He reached backwards and snatched the flower from the Latino's hand. "Hey!" Carlos cried in protest. "What are you doing?"

"I forgot all about your stupid flower," said James. He waved the goldenrod underneath Logan's nose.

"Stop it," Logan scolded, slapping away James's hand. He sneezed.

"Aha!" exclaimed the taller boy. "See, Carlos? Logan's allergic to this thing. He was completely fine this morning until you brought this dumb plant in the car."

"It's not dumb," argued Carlos, "it's pretty." The leather seat crunched as Carlos reached forward to make a grab for the flower. "Give it back!"

"You want Logan to get sick?" snapped James.

"Well, no, but—"

"Then we have to get rid of it."

"No!" shouted Carlos. He reached for the object again, but James dangled it away from him. "James, give it!" Obviously becoming frustrated, Carlos balled a fist and slammed it into James's shoulder. Hard.

"Guys, come on, knock it off," Logan mumbled under his breath. He wasn't in the mood to raise his voice, let alone break the two up. Admittedly, Logan did want the goldenrod gone. Now that he thought about it, James was right. Logan hadn't started feeling ill until Carlos brought that thing into the car.

James said nothing, instead rolling down the window on his door. Harsh, loud air gushed into the vehicle, whirling around maps and garbage like a tornado.

"James, _don't_!"

It was too late. James thrust his hand out the window and released his grip on the goldenrod. The whipping wind forced it backwards instantaneously, tiny petals of the yellow flowers dancing sporadically in the gust.

"Dude!" Carlos hit James again, this time more forcefully than the last. "What the heck?"

James shoved Carlos back into his seat. "Do you want Logan to get sick? It's just a stupid weed. We had to get rid of it."

The inside of Mrs. Knight's car fell totally into silence. Blood pumped in Logan's ears, and he felt his cheeks grow hot. He wasn't sure if he should say anything or not. James throwing Carlos's goldenrod out the window was a little mean, considering innocent Carlos must have seen more than just a flower in the buttery petals and stout stem. It was Logan's fault. If he didn't have his stupid allergies then no one would be upset.

At least a minute passed before Carlos finally spoke. "Kendall would have let me keep it." His voice was so soft it was almost drowned out by the noise of the running vehicle.

James failed to react in the slightest as Carlos sniffled and sprawled himself across his seat, pulling his helmet down so it covered his eyes. He didn't move.

Logan didn't dare to say anything in fear of starting another dispute. He desperately needed to clear his throat, but held it back as not to disrupt the silence. He removed his gaze from the road for a quick second to give a glance towards James. He knew James didn't mean to upset Carlos. It was just hard to go easy on someone when you're all hurt and broken inside.

Carlos made a tiny squeak in the backseat. James flinched; Logan pretended not to notice.

It was the longest twenty minutes of the trip so far. A large green sign read "Colby" in bold white letters, so Logan took the next exit. He hoped the town was large enough to actually have a gas station; the car was running on less than a fourth of a tank.

Sure enough, the road Logan took eventually led to a small store. There were only two pumps outside, and one clunky-looking car parked at the front of the building. No other traces of a town could be seen. In fact, the area surrounding the gas station was hilly and barren of trees.

Logan pulled the car up to pump number two. Back in Minnesota his mother had taught him how to put gas in a car when he first carried his permit. He'd never done it by himself, but figured he should be able to remember.

Logan shut off the car. When no one moved, he decided to finally speak. "Anyone need anything from inside?"

James wordlessly slipped from his seat and exited the car. Logan watched him as his long legs carried him across the small parking lot and to the entrance.

Logan looked back at the boy laying motionless. "Carlos?"

"No," he murmured. His eyes were half-open and droopy, one arm hanging flaccidly off the seat.

Logan sighed. "Look, I know you hate it when I get all pushy and annoying, but you're going to have to use the bathroom again in about ten minutes. So if you don't get up and go in there, I'm going to force you in myself."

Carlos didn't respond.

"I'm serious."

He flopped over on the seat, turning his back towards Logan.

"Fine." Logan slammed the car door shut. "But James is going to be mad when we have to pull over again," he muttered to himself.

Filling the car with gas went just as expected. The screen on the pump walked him through what he needed to do, and in no time he was making his way to the building to pay for his purchase. Leaving Carlos in the car, Logan ventured inside. A loud buzz assaulted his congested ears when he entered. He winced while he scanned the vicinity for James, who was spotted exiting the restroom.

"Oh, another customer! Greetings, handsome fellow!"

Logan stopped. He slowly turned his head to the front counter and did his best to keep a straight face. He was unsure whether to laugh, or be thoroughly disturbed.

The cashier was wearing an unwavering, toothy grin which puffed out his pale cheeks. His hair was as white as snow, though he couldn't have been older than thirty years old. It hung down low in the back and short in the front; a mullet, choppily cut. Thick-framed glasses sat on a crooked nose, and a gaudy orange tie hung loosely over a stained beige shirt. He had a rag in one hand which he moved in a circular motion over the counter.

"Uh," said Logan. He opened and closed his mouth again, unsure of how to respond.

"Hi…?" James offered. It came out sounding like a question.

The cashier, still retaining the most abnormal smile Logan had ever seen, suddenly gave a violent twitch. His arms flew up over his head, hands flailing and knocking into several items displayed on nearby shelves. The man never broke eye contact with Logan as the rag continued to be wiped across the work station. "My name is Dex. Dex Bishop." His smile was evident in his voice. "Well, that's what most people call me. Except for my father. He calls me Newman. All my friends call me Itch, but I don't know why, and it's weird because I don't have many friends. The customers are all my friends, and they only stay in my store for an average of four minutes and twenty-one seconds."

Logan nodded slowly, chancing a glance at James. He also bobbed his head up and down as he inched towards the back wall of the store which contained fresh food. Dex was still speaking when Logan tuned back in: "…my room in the back. It's supposed to be a storage closet, but I just live there now because my parents said after I dropped out of community college I wasn't allowed to live with them anymore. You know, my father was the one who encouraged me to take over the family business. He clapped me on the back one day and said, 'you're a new man, Dex.' And that's why he calls me Newman now…"

His left eye began to blink rapidly as he spoke, and Logan was concerned for several seconds before the man slapped himself in the face and the twitching ceased. Logan was almost afraid to interrupt the incessant conversation in order to pay for his gas.

Logan timidly raised his hand, as if he were waiting for a teacher to call on him at school. When Dex kept talking, Logan cleared his throat.

"…But business is good, so I'm happy. Not many children come in, though. Their parents make them stay in the car, which is really unfortunate because I miss their laughter…"

Logan took a cautious step forward, digging around in his back pocket for his wallet. Paying for the gas in cash would clear him out, which meant James and Carlos would need to finance the remainder of the trip.

Figuring the rambling cashier wouldn't shut up unless he said something, Logan cleared his throat. "Um, excuse me…"

Dex stopped talking—though didn't stop smiling. "Oh, I'm sorry. Sometimes I just keep talking and talking and talking and I just don't stop." He tossed his rag over his shoulder in a sudden spasm of his left arm.

Logan hopped backwards in surprise. His hand shook as he held out a wad of bills. "Uh, I have gas on pump two."

Dex nodded his head vigorously. "Sure, sure, okay. Sounds good."

Logan ensured a safe distance from the counter while James's soft footsteps were heard behind him. "Um, this too, please," he said with less confidence than usual. James placed a oblong-shaped item on the counter. It was wrapped in white paper and had a stick protruding from one end.

"Oh, these are great!" Dex exclaimed, pointing to the package. "I made them myself. See, they get shipped all frozen in these boxes, then I thaw them all out and put them in the microwave, then they're ready to eat for the customer—" He abruptly cut off. His smile vanished.

Logan tensed, ready to bolt to the car if he had to. From his peripheral vision he noticed James also stiffen.

"Say," said Dex, pointing a finger at the two. "You're those kids from the news, aren't you?"

James whipped his head around to Logan, each boy sharing the same panicky glance. "No!" James quickly insisted. "No, we're… We're just travelers. My name is J-Ja… Jay. Yeah. I'm Jay, and this is my cousin… Hortense."

Logan glared.

Dex narrowed his white eyebrows in suspicion, studying the boys. Logan could feel his heart thud faster with alarm. This was bad, really bad. For them to be on the news already, Mrs. Knight must have discovered them missing sometime during the night. Now they had less time than initially estimated 'in the clear,' so to speak. A description of themselves and vehicle was probably scrolling across every TV screen in America, the FBI were adding them to the most wanted list, the CIA including Jo's dad were hunting them down…

Logan felt faint.

But Dex's big grin curved his lips once again, and he handed Logan his change and slid James's snack across the counter. "Don't worry, fellas," he said. "I'm not going to tell the police on you. That wouldn't be very friendly of me. And I want my costumers to come back."

James breathed a sigh of relief. Logan just nodded, wide-eyed.

"Is there some kid with a helmet with you? Because that's what the radio said." Dex turned to the window and peered out.

"Uh…" Logan stammered. He wasn't sure how much to tell this guy. Maybe they could continue to deny their identities and convince Dex they were merely young boys living a life on the road. Ultimately, he decided to avoid the subject altogether. "W-We have to be going now…"

"Aw, okay," murmured Dex, sounding genuinely disappointed. "Take care! Make sure to tell your friends about me! And good luck escaping the police."

Logan said goodbye and hustled to the door. He turned around to beckon James over, but the taller boy remained at the front counter. "What else did you hear about us?" he asked.

Great. So much for concealing identities.

Dex thoughtfully tapped his chin. "Three boys are driving illegally in a stolen Mercedes-Benz, presumably going north on I-5. That's about it, really. They said one boy may be traveling with a helmet, one has fantastic hair, and the other one's a nerd."

"They said I had fantastic hair?"

"They said I'm a nerd?"

Dex chuckled. "Yup! I heard that about an hour ago. And I only heard it once, so if you guys get going you might avoid trouble"

James thanked the man and met Logan at the door. Dex continued to shout goodbyes and thank-yous from the counter.

The two pushed open the door and hurried to the car. Logan immediately turned to James. "Dude…"

"I know," he replied.

When they entered the car, Carlos was in the same position Logan had left him. Logan shuddered as he fastened his seatbelt. "Good thing you didn't come in, Carlos."

"Yeah," James agreed. "The worker was…"

"Odd," Logan finished.

Carlos said nothing.

"Yet strangely informative," added the brown-haired boy. He looped an arm backwards and stuck out his purchase for Carlos take. "He said we've been on the news for the past hour. Mrs. Knight must have already discovered us gone."

At that Carlos sat up. He hesitantly accepted James's gift and unwrapped the thin paper covering the top. A corndog. His eyes lit up and he immediately took a big bite. "Am commph ammph amphrr umph?" he asked through a mouthful.

"Yeah," Logan answered. "Which means we're going to have to lay low. No more stopping alongside the interstate, and no more throwing things out the window." He started the engine and prepared to pull away. He ignored Dex waving from the front of the store.

James stuck the headphones to his MP3 player in his ears as Logan found his way back to the interstate. Logan estimated they would arrive in Warrick at around ten o'clock, considering no more major distractions came in their way. The sun was just beginning to rise; wispy clouds were painted pink and orange, the sky blending from dark blue to bright, warm colors.

Logan thought of Kendall as he drove the car north. He couldn't remember the last time he saw a sunrise, and wondered if Kendall was watching it, too. Wherever he was. The sunrise was a new day, a clean slate, a rebirth. And for a moment, Logan wondered if being an optimist was a good thing after all. Maybe they were going in the right direction.

There was a small tap on his shoulder. "Um… Logan? I have to pee again."


	10. Paint it Black

**A/N: Whoo! School is over and summer is here, which means I'll have more time to update! This chapter came out a lot longer than I expected. I was planning to write it with no page breaks, but had to do a lot of editing so it didn't turn out as long as chapter 5, lol. May I reiterate, the next chapter will be epic. I'm so excited.**  
**The lyrics and chapter title comes from the song 'Paint it Black' by the Rolling Stones. I usually keep lyrics and songs out of my stories, but this was perfect and I just couldn't resist. Remember I am no way affiliated with the band or songwriters or anything like that. But you knew that already. ;)**  
**Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate every single one of them. Please continue to let me know how I'm doing!**

**Warnings: Excessive CAPS LOCK**.

* * *

Chapter 10  
Paint it Black

Carlos felt a little guilty that he was having so much fun.

The last hour was spent jamming out to the radio, which James cranked near its maximum volume. They head-banged to the newest rock hits and sang along to latest pop singles. Even Logan seemed to be enjoying himself, which Carlos was relieved to see. The driver definitely looked better now that the goldenrod was gone, though Carlos still missed his flower.

When the radio finally played a slow song, the boys took a much-needed break. They fell into comfortable silence and watched as rolling hills and thick groves of trees passed them by outside. The farther north they traveled, the darker the clouds became. Soon sharp raindrops were pattering across the glass. Logan panicked for only a moment before he fumbled for the windshield wipers.

Carlos found the rain relaxing. He traced his finger over the water streaking across his window. Sometimes he found two beads close together and had a race to see which one could make it to the other end of the window first. They usually disappeared into a larger drop before they made it across.

The rain finally let up as the boys bypassed a large city. Carlos marveled at the skyline in the distance, wishing he had brought his camera. Traffic flared considerably, but faded as quickly as the city did. An hour passed with sunny fields and vineyards leading the way, which, naturally, made Carlos hungry. So he munched on some more snacks, wondering when lunchtime would come.

"Logan, are we there yet?" he asked, sighing. He was enjoying their trip and all, but sitting stationary in a small vehicle was tedious business.

From the passengers seat, James took a pencil and made a mark on the corner of one of his papers. "That's the tenth time he's asked that," James reported to Logan.

Logan frowned and leaned forward in his seat. He revealed his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and tossed James a five dollar bill. He then held the wallet upside down. "No more bets. I'm completely out of cash."

James smirked and pocketed the money.

Carlos ignored them. "So we're not there yet?"

"Actually," said Logan, "we should be getting pretty close. I estimated we'd arrive by ten o'clock, and, well, look at the time."

"This is cool!" exclaimed Carlos, lap belt preventing him from jiggling out of his seat. "What are we going to do when we see Fred Baker?"

The two up front exchanged glances. "I guess we haven't really thought of that," said James. "Did anyone pack a bat?"

"Guys, we can't just walk in and beat this guy up."

Carlos rolled his eyes at his cautious friend. "Why not? He's probably not just going to hand Kendall over."

"We don't even know if he has Kendall."

"Logaaaaan."

"Just saying."

Carlos was conjuring up a witty remark when a sign outside caught his eye. He squinted, then leaned between the two seats ahead of him, pointing. "There! Warrick, next exit!"

James and Carlos cheered in unison. They gave each other congratulatory high-fives and victorious jostles to the shoulder. "I am _so_ ready for this," declared James. He cracked his knuckles loudly.

Carlos rolled his shoulders and did a quick flex of his biceps. "That baker won't even see what's coming to him."

Shaking his head and chuckling, Logan pulled off the interstate for what the boys presumed to be the last time. Carlos's excited heart was pumping rapidly with fervor. He couldn't wait to see Kendall again. The blond had to be someway associated with the bakery; if he wasn't there, perhaps he _had_ been there at one point, or was on his way.

Carlos was even more eager to get out of the car. His leg bounced in anticipation.

The highway was a flat stretch of road. Warrick could be see in the distance; a modest cluster of buildings. From the looks of it, Warrick was a relatively small town. Carlos remembered James say the population was only about three thousand. Maybe all the residents were zombies. Or maybe they all belonged to some sort of mob group and lived a life of organized crime, and Kendall got somehow involved in their gang—

"Cop!" Logan screeched.

Carlos snapped out of his thoughts and looked up. "What?"

Logan sounded frantic. "Carlos, got your seatbelt on?"

"Yeah."

"Hang on."

He barely had time to process Logan's words before Logan slammed on the brakes. James cried out various shouts of disapproval as the wheel was cranked sharply to the side. Even with his seatbelt fastened, Carlos was jerked sideways and nearly toppled over in his seat.

The car flew off the left side of the highway—thankfully, there was no oncoming traffic. Dirt and grass flew up in large clumps as Logan gave the wheel another hard twist. The engine revved and rumbled, tires squealing in protest. Carlos squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for certain death.

Suddenly, the ride was much more smooth. Logan accelerated, breathing as if he'd just run a marathon and won. His eyes were wide and unblinking, staring at the road in front of him in disbelief. "Did I just do that?"

"You did something!" James shouted. Carlos couldn't tell if he was more angry or surprised. "What were you _doing_? Why'd we turn around?"

"Look behind us," Logan ordered, slowly regaining his composure. "Is anyone following us?"

James was still mumbling under his breath as he rotated around and peered out the rear window. "No. No one's there. Now what was that about?"

"There was a cop!"

"Where?"

"Parked right by the sign."

"What sign?"

"The 'Welcome to Warrick' sign. Didn't you see him idling there?" Logan ran a hand across his face, flustered. "Great. This is just great."

"Why is it great?" Carlos piped up, confused. He still clutched one hand protectively around his seatbelt, the other resting securely atop his helmet.

"I was being sarcastic," Logan said. "And it's _great_ because the police know we're going to Warrick!"

"Hang on," said James. "That doesn't prove anything. That cop could've just been sitting there ready to catch speeders going into town. It doesn't mean he's after us."

Logan laughed humorlessly. "I'm such an idiot! I should have thought of this." He glanced over his shoulder, ensuring the cruiser wasn't behind. "We called Officer McNair before we left, remember? We asked him to check out the bakery. And then we leave home and disappear? Mrs. Knight knows us well enough to assume we're going to find Kendall, and we pretty much told McNair where we're going. Call me crazy, but I think that cop was waiting for _us_."

Carlos nibbled on his bottom lip in distress. Logan, in his current panicky state, was right. And the more he thought about it, the more Carlos realized how foolish and careless they had been. "So… What now?" he asked, hoping the dejectedness wasn't too evident in his voice.

Logan shrugged his shoulders, seemingly refocusing his attention wholly to the road.

"What about entering town from a different direction?" James suggested.

Logan shook his head. "They wouldn't have just one side of town under surveillance, they'd cover every entrance." He sighed. "I told you this was stupid."

Carlos nervously examined his friends, watching Logan's muscles tense and James cast his gaze out the window. The interior of the vehicle fell into silence.

Carlos wasn't quite sure what to think. He found a pretzel stick laying on the seat beside him, so he popped it in his mouth and chewed pensively. He wished Kendall was there to devise a plan. Kendall was the best at decision making and quick-thinking. Logan was always a good candidate for runner-up, but when he got all worked-up about something his smart brain melted into a useless puddle.

James's eyes suddenly lit up. "We'll get disguises!" he cried. "That guy at the gas station said our descriptions are on the radio, which probably means our pictures are on TV, which means… Uh… Hang on, I almost have it…"

Carlos helped formulate the rest of the idea. "Which means the police will be looking for three people who look like us!"

"Yes!" James snapped his fingers triumphantly. "So we just need to change our appearances."

Logan scoffed. "That doesn't help the car. According to Dex, the cops also know what kind of car we're driving, not to mention they'll have the license plate number on hand."

"Who's Dex?" wondered Carlos.

"Gas station guy."

"What kind of parents name their kid Dex?"

"He also goes by Newman and Itch, apparently."

Carlos's head hurt.

James got back on subject. "Yeah, well, at least the disguises will conceal our identities until we can think of a way to get into town unnoticed."

Logan seemed to consider the taller boy's words. When the car came to the end of the highway, Logan pulled onto the south ramp after checking behind him for the cruiser. "There was a town a few miles back."

* * *

The town was home to twenty-three thousand people, according to the welcome sign. Maneuvering around the unfamiliar streets was obviously frightening to Logan. Carlos had to rummage around the mess in the back of the car to locate a paper bag for Logan to breathe into so he didn't begin hyperventilating and pass out behind the wheel. James kept one hand on Logan's shoulder and coaxed him through driving downtown with one hand.

"People keep looking at us," Logan panted, car stationary at a stoplight. "They must know who we are."

"Or they're staring at the idiot breathing into a paper bag," James muttered, only slightly joking. "Or the other idiot holding your hand because you're so scared."

Carlos stifled a snicker as Logan yanked his arm away. "I didn't ask you to hold it!" He pressed the opening of the bag to his mouth and inhaled deeply, the paper crinkling loudly with each breath.

Carlos pointed out the window. "There's a store we can stop at."

There weren't too many vehicles in the parking lot; it was only ten thirty AM. Logan swung the vehicle in the back, two rows away from any other car. They had to wait a few moments for him to stop shaking before they started their walk to the entrance of the store. Carlos left his helmet behind.

"How come we can't just change into some of the clothes we packed with?" he asked, remembering his backpack was primarily stuffed with underwear.

"Because it's still too casual," replied James. "We need to wear something we wouldn't normally wear."

"Oh."

The automatic doors slid open in welcome. Carlos's eyes scanned over the store, figuring the three of them were some of the first costumers of the day. He noticed a clothing section to the right, and home décor beginning on the left.

"Um, okay, let's split up," said James, grabbing hold of both Carlos's shoulders. He spoke rapidly. "Me and Carlos will go this way and Logan can go that way hahaha…"

Carlos raised an eyebrow. Before Logan could voice input in the decision, James was guiding Carlos down the aisle to the right, leaving Logan standing confusedly by himself. He ultimately shrugged and started down the opposite direction.

Carlos allowed James to drag him into a row of men's clothing. James ducked behind a rack of pants and peered over the top.

"Why are we hiding?" whispered Carlos.

James turned to him. "Dude. I know how to get into Warrick."

"Really?" Carlos asked, hopefully. "How?"

"We disguise the car. By painting it black."

Carlos gaped at him. He was used to executing daring tasks, but James's suggestion was crossing the line. They couldn't vandalize Mrs. Knight's car! She'd ground them for eternity, and probably make them pay for a new one themselves. Not to mention it was _mean_. After all, she was like a second mother to them. "James, we can't—"

"I know," he interrupted. "But Kendall is way more important than a car."

It was enough convincing for Carlos. He shrugged and gave a nod. The two stood from their hiding place, searching across the store for Logan. "So what's the plan?"

"We're going to need duct tape, a bat, a wrench, and as many cans of spray paint as we can find."

Carlos agreed. He wasn't sure what James had in store for the remainder of the items, but trusted he had the situation under control.

He stayed in the clothing section to find 'non casual' garments to wear while James backtracked to round up Logan. Carlos felt a little bad that he was keeping a secret from Logan, but also harbored a familiar rebellious thrill. He concentrated hard to keep his mouth shut.

He wandered the aisles, searching for something to disguise himself. A shelf of baseball caps seemed to be calling to him, so he grabbed an unmarked black one and bended the visor into an arch. He was never one to enjoy shopping; he pulled a random shirt and jacket from the clearance section and tossed them over his shoulder.

"You're already done?" asked James as he strode up with Logan.

Carlos shrugged indifferently. "Yeah."

"Let me see." James snatched the garments from Carlos and held them up. "The jacket's nice," he said, "but a plaid shirt? Really? Are you going for the Kendall look or something?" James tossed the clothes back, which Carlos caught with a frown.

"Isn't this fun?" said James. "I always said we should go shopping together. Now maybe we can get you guys some _real_ style." He held up a tight-fitting black shirt and showed it to Logan. "You're wearing this."

Logan had a sweater vest in his hands. "Huh?"

James tore it away from him and threw it somewhere carelessly to the side. "And this!" he declared, pulling a fedora seemingly out of nowhere.

Carlos sighed loudly and dramatically, already bored. He abandoned James and Logan as Logan began complaining about how the fabric would feel against his skin, and made his way to the fitting rooms in the far corner of the store. The red shirt he chose unselectively was a little big on him, but he definitely didn't want to risk going back outside to be a victim of James's meticulous process of color-scheming and measuring and other stuff no one else cared about.

As Carlos emerged from the fitting rooms with his clothes in his hands, James immediately bounced up to him. "Hey, I'll keep Logan distracted, you go get the stuff, okay?"

"Right," he agreed. He and James did a quick hand-slap before Carlos began sneaking to the other end of the store.

* * *

Carlos managed to buy everything on James's list, creep to the car, hide the shopping bags in the trunk and come back all before James and Logan left the men's section. When all three of them finally started to the car, James leaned over to Carlos and whispered, "You have to distract Logan."

"Why?"

"Because I need to switch the license plates on the car."

Carlos stopped walking and stared at him. James stared back, seeking confirmation. Carlos merely shrugged. "Okay."

James bobbed his head in appreciation, then bounded to the rear of the vehicle.

Carlos had to think fast. He grabbed Logan's shoulders and forcefully rotated him around. Logan looked at him in confusion and surprise. "What?"

"Uh." Carlos peered over Logan's shoulders and saw James search hastily in the trunk for the wrench Carlos had purchased. "Um, hi."

Logan narrowed his eyes. "Hi…"

James gestured for Carlos to keep talking.

"Uh, so, uh…" The Latino desperately racked his brain. "H-How's it going?"

"How's it _going_?"

"Yeah. I feel like we never talk anymore. What's new with Logan?" Carlos playfully poked him in the stomach.

Logan made a face and took a step backwards. "Carlos, we don't have time for this," he said. He attempted to turn around, but Carlos stopped him by grabbing his arm. James was kneeling at the bumper of the car, twisting the wrench vigorously over the rusty screw securing the plate.

"Wait!" Carlos cried, loudly. He cleared his throat and smiled convincingly. "Wait. Uh. Don't you want to… Um… Come over here?" He looped an arm around Logan's shoulders and began to guide him towards store.

Logan shrugged off the touch. "Why? Did you forget something inside?"

"…Yes."

"What?"

"My… Shoe."

Logan looked down. "You have both your shoes."

Carlos gasped. "Logan! You're a genius! You found it!" He pretended to cry tears of joy. "Come here, man!" Before Logan had a chance to react, Carlos threw both arms around his friend and pulled him into a hug.

Logan stiffened. "Uh… Dude?"

Carlos ignored him, focusing his attention on James. The taller boy was making slow progress; he was only jogging to the front to get the second plate off the car. "Keep going," James mouthed, gesturing fervently.

Carlos broke the embrace with another string of 'ums' and 'uhs,' unsure of what to do next. Logan appeared thoroughly disturbed. "…Can we go to the car now?" he asked, voice wavering.

"Wait!" shouted Carlos.

Logan jumped.

"You don't want to go over there," Carlos insisted with a nervous laugh. "You need to, um… You need to…" He snapped his fingers together. "Dance!"

"Carlos, you're scaring me," Logan said, wide-eyed as Carlos began to gracelessly flail his arms and wiggle his hips. He hopped up and down and bobbed his head, encouraging Logan to join him.

A metallic clatter was heard from behind.

Logan whipped around. In what Logan and James may refer to as an 'emergency dance block,' Carlos shimmied to the side, throwing his body in front of Logan to obstruct the view. Logan made a noise of disgust and shoved Carlos aside. He gasped at the sight in front of him.

"Um, this isn't what it looks like," James stammered, lifting the dropped license plate from the ground.

Carlos ceased his movements and let his eyes shift between his two friends. Logan was horrified. "You're trying to switch the license plates on the car?" he exclaimed.

"Okay… So maybe it's exactly what it looks like."

"Okay, okay, wait," Carlos said, holding out both hands. "Logan, before you freak out, just listen."

"The cops are right on our tails," James continued, speaking calmly. "And the only way we're going to get into Warrick is to disguise the car. You were right about the license plate, so I figure this is the perfect solution."

Several sentence fragments spewed from Logan's mouth in his exasperation. Carlos just sighed and tuned it out. He looked up at the sky and found a cloud that looked sort of like a bunny, and giggled. It was a nice day. Not too hot, not too chilly, just a perfect amount of sun and breeze.

"…We're already going to jail, so I guess another broken law isn't going to matter," Logan mumbled, ending his rant.

Carlos perked up. "So it's cool?"

Logan threw his hands up. "No, it's not cool! We're stealing someone's license plates!"

"It's not technically _stealing_," said James, "because we're giving them ours. It's like a friendly exchange that we didn't get permission to do."

Logan was clearly agitated, as he paced the ground while running a hand through his hair the entire time James went to work taking the plates from a nearby truck. Carlos kept watch, ensuring no angry person came storming through the lot, let alone a police officer.

"Done," James said, about five minutes later. He stuck the wrench in his back pocket and high-fived Carlos for a job well done. "Logan, can you drive us somewhere out of town so we can change clothes and talk about what to do next?"

Carlos knew James was scheming something again, so he added, "Yeah, Logan, please?"

The driver hesitantly agreed. When everyone had piled into the car, Logan took hold of his paper bag and prepared to once again drive with one hand.

* * *

Logan was talking to himself, walking from the car to a neighboring tree and back again.

James and Carlos leaned nonchalantly against the vehicle, hands in their pockets as they observed their nervous friend. They had already changed clothes; James sporting a backwards baseball cap to cover his hair, and a blue-and-grey-striped sweater resembling something Carlos would wear on a normal day. Carlos himself had his too-big button-up shirt on his body and his black jacket covering his arms. Unlike James, he wore his cap forwards. And Logan's fedora made him look like a weird version of Indiana Jones; he dressed in a black t-shirt and casual, beige sports coat.

"I mean, if the police really want to find us, they'll probably stop any car that looks even remotely similar to ours, so we're in a jam either way…" Logan murmured.

They had pulled off from the highway a couple miles out of town, once again traveling over bumpy grass to get to an area secluded by woods. They were completely out of sight to the road beyond the trees; it was the perfect spot to do some painting.

"…Because if we risk it and get caught, all of this will have been for nothing and we'll get into huge trouble _and_ not find Kendall, so it's really a lose-lose situation…"

Carlos and James exchanged glances.

"Now?" said James.

"Now," Carlos confirmed.

Calmly and subtly, the two teens moved to the back of the vehicle and popped open the trunk. James removed a roll of duct tape and handed it to Carlos, who hid the adhesive behind his back.

"He's going to hate us for this," said Carlos, suddenly a bit uncertain.

"He'll get over it," replied James. He took a deep breath, then grinned broadly and brightly. "Hey, Logan," he called in an amiable, singsong voice.

Carlos copied James and put on his best innocent face. The taller boy approached Logan, nodding his head and pretending to listen as Logan continued his spiel and frantically paced the overgrown grass. "…I mean, that would have to be the only explanation, wouldn't you agree?" Logan asked, twirling around on his heel. He narrowed his eyes and took a step backwards when he nearly bumped chests with James. "Um, what are you doing?"

Carlos continued to smile, James wearing an identical expression.

Logan's eyes moved to each of them, making a face. "…You guys are freaking me out."

James nodded his head. "Yeah, um… So listen, buddy." He advanced and clapped a hand on Logan's shoulder. Logan stared, one eyebrow raised. "Before we do this, just know that it's for your own good."

Logan shrugged away, looking this time to Carlos. "Do what? What are you talking about?"

Carlos did feel pretty guilty when James leapt at Logan, especially when Logan's face flushed red from anger and frustration. James overpowered him and wrapped his brawny arms around Logan's middle, lifting him effortlessly from the ground. Logan yelled and kicked his legs, making contact with James's body, but not doing nearly enough damage to make James stop.

James carried Logan to the tree, then placed him on his feet. Logan attempted to dart away, but was restrained by the tallest member of Big Time Rush. James seized hold of Logan's shoulders and pinned him securely against the bark.

Carlos sprang into action. Logan was strong—very strong, actually—but James's determination could go straight to his muscles. Poor Logan writhed and squirmed, desperately attempting to break free of the unrelenting grasp. The Latino quickly revealed the duct tape and used his fingernail to peel up one end of the strip.

Logan's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Oh, no!" he cried. "No you are _not_! Are you _nuts_? You are not _taping_ me to a _tree_!"

Carlos cringed at the anger in Logan's voice. He hated hearing his friends sound so upset, but James was right. It was for the best.

"Hurry up!" James grunted, struggling to keep Logan steady.

Carlos pressed one end of the tape to the front of Logan's newly purchased shirt, then began to run in a circle around the tree.

"YOU GUYS, LET ME GO!" Logan shrieked acerbically. He wriggled underneath the restraints, but to no avail. "What are you going to _do_?"

When nearly half the roll had been used taping Logan, Carlos used his teeth to rip off the strip. "You'll see."

Feeling victorious, Carlos and James neglected Logan at the tree and practically skipped to the car. They pulled out the bag of paint cans and emptied them on the ground.

"Wait, what is that?" asked Logan. He squinted. "Please tell me that's not what I think it is…"

James grabbed a can and shook it, the little ball inside clanking loudly.

"NO WAY!" Logan screamed. "YOU ARE NOT GOING TO PAINT THE CAR! I CAN'T EVEN BELIEVE YOU WOULD CONSIDER THAT! YOU GUYS ARE OUT OF YOUR MINDS! LET ME GO RIGHT NOW! I MEAN IT! JAMES! CARLOS!"

James nodded towards the trapped boy, and Carlos complied, understanding the hint. He peeled off another piece of tape with a sigh, and approached Logan.

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!" Logan continued to shout. "YOU CAN'T JUST DEFACE MRS. KNIGHT'S CAR AND TURN IT INTO A PIECE OF JUNK! SHE IS GOING TO KILL YOU, AND I'LL BE THE ONE STUCK PLANNING YOUR FUNERALS BECAUSE I AM NOT GETTING SUCKED INTO ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR RIDICULOUS—Mmmph!"

Carlos pressed the tape over his friend's mouth and offered a weak smile. "Sorry, Logie."

He ignored the muffled cries of protest as James tossed him a can and the two went to work. The first splotch of black marring the silver car made Carlos feel twice as guilty, and he hesitated briefly before glancing over at James and seeing him hurriedly go about coating the driver's door. So Carlos shrugged, figuring Mrs. Knight would understand their actions, and continued.

"How long does this take to dry?" he wondered.

"Probably a while," James said, can hissing as he squirted a long line across the length of the car. "But we don't have time to wait; it can dry while we drive."

Carlos emptied his can and reached for a second. "_No colors anymore, I want them to turn black_…," he sang.

James hummed the guitar riff, and they both laughed, earning more diluted shouts from Logan.

They painted for a good half-hour, until their supplies ran empty. Apparently it took a lot more than ten cans to cover an entire car. The left side was black, the right its original silver. Carlos and James considered it sufficient enough, because the cop was parked on the left side of the road and would only see the black as they passed him by.

Carlos wiped his stained hands on the grass. "Well, I guess we better untie Logan." Said boy had stilled his futile movements, but continued glaring darkly.

They tugged on the tape, but it wouldn't budge. Unable to find the edge, Carlos and James stepped back and scratched their heads. "What now?" said James. "We can't just leave him here."

"We could bring the tree with," Carlos suggested. "Got a saw?"

"Nope."

Logan said something. Carlos removed the piece from his mouth so he could be understood. "Get. Me. Out. Of. Here."

"Yeah, yeah, hang on," mumbled Carlos. Not wanting to hear Logan whine anymore, he replaced the tape over his mouth. The Latino decided to go check the car for anything sharp that could be used to free Logan from his silver cocoon. There was nothing in the back, so he rifled around in the glove compartment up front. He was surprised to find Mrs. Knight kept a Swiss army knife tucked away inside.

Feeling satisfied and strangely successful, Carlos made his way to free Logan, remembering James had made him purchase a bat for the imminent confrontation with Fred Baker.

Next stop: Warrick, California.


	11. Superman

**A/N: Whoa. Talk about fast update. I didn't think I was even capable of writing so much in a day. Well, anway. This chapter is probably the most emotionally intense so far, and it's only going to get worse as the story progresses. Next chapter follows Kendall! (Finally.) Also, after reading this chapter, please don't hate anyone. I'm not trying to make Logan or James a bad guy. **  
**Thanks for reading, and thanks for the reviews last chapter! :D**

**Warnings: Angst, violence, hurt/comfort.**

* * *

Chapter 11  
Superman

Logan finally started speaking to James and Carlos again when they reached the bakery. Remembering Logan was slightly claustrophobic, James was concerned he had traumatized his friend for the rest of his life. But the driver wasn't frightened; he was livid. After a long tirade about how even if the car managed to get past the cop outside of Warrick, it was ten times more noticeable now that one side was a lusterless black, Logan angrily got behind the wheel and drove straight to Warrick without a word. Unlike James and Carlos, he hardly even glanced at the police cruiser as they passed it by with ease.

Carlos was beyond antsy; he needed to constantly be reminded to fasten his seatbelt—by James, this time, since Logan was too enraged to vocalize a proper sentence. James had to admit he was feeling jittery and anxious like Carlos, but he apparently had a bit more self-control than the Latino.

Since the town was so small, Logan had no trouble driving to their destination. He abandoned the paper bag he had been breathing into and allowed James to navigate him to the small building on Weylin Road.

It was 12:30 PM. Baker's Bakery was located next to a larger store that seemed to be either closed or out of business, so the parking lot spanned exceptionally far, though was relatively empty. Even from inside the confines of the multi-colored car, the boys could smell fresh bread wafting in the breeze. Logan parked as far away as possible, as to not draw any attention to the vehicle.

"Can we go in now?" Carlos asked as Logan cut the engine. "Do you see the baker? Or Kendall? Can we get the bat? Are we going to—"

"Wait, what bat?" Logan interrupted. It was the first thing he'd said in half an hour.

James smacked his forehead. Great. Now they needed to explain to Logan they had purchased a baseball bat at the store in hopes of intimidating the baker into confessing.

As James was searching his mind for some sort of response that wouldn't make Logan any more angry than he already was, the driver sighed loudly. "Can we just go talk to him first? And if he's suspicious, then we can… get the bat, okay?"

"Okay," Carlos quickly agreed, already clambering to open the door. "Let's go, let's go!"

"Wait, hold on." Both James and Logan reached backwards and grabbed Carlos's jacket, restraining him. Carlos pouted.

"We need a plan," said James. Kendall would have a plan, right?

Carlos puffed out his cheeks. "We _have _a plan," he said. "We walk in and ask Fred Baker where he's keeping Kendall. And if he doesn't tell us, then we beat him up. Duh." He reached for the door yet again.

"Carlos, stop," Logan ordered. "Did it ever occur to you that this guy could be dangerous?"

"No."

"Do you care?"

"No."

Logan cast a pleading look to James.

"Look, dude," the taller boy said to Carlos. "When we go in there, we just have to act like we know what we're talking about. And one of us can stay by the door, so if the baker tries anything we can run and get help."

"Okay okay, can we go now?"

James sighed. "Yes."

"Whoo!" Carlos cried excitedly. He ripped the cap off his head and replaced it with his helmet, giving the hard plastic an enthusiastic rap. "Let's do this." He stuck out a hand which James eagerly slapped, and Logan hesitantly patted.

They crossed the parking lot quickly. James led the way, with Logan to his left and Carlos on the right. Somewhere beyond the beat of his own noisy heart, James could hear Logan suck in several deep breaths, obviously nervous for the impending encounter. Carlos seemed totally chill, treating the whole thing like a game of hide-and-seek he was about to win.

Admittedly, James had no idea what to expect. Out of instinct he dipped a finger into the pocket of his jeans and felt for the edge of the piece of paper found in Kendall's room. The entire situation seemed surreal. It was hard to believe police officers were searching to apprehend them, they were miles from home, and about to question someone who may be able to offer information regarding Kendall's whereabouts.

James stopped when he reached the front door to the building. His hand loomed over the handle, suddenly fearful.

Luckily, Carlos was there to give him an elbow to the side. "Go in," he urged.

James mentally prepared himself by counting to three in his head. He pushed the door open.

His muscles involuntarily relaxed at the calming scent of the small shop. Bread and other homemade goods lined the walls and spanned beneath glass counters. His eyes did a quick search of the store, seeking anything unusual. No deadly instruments of torture sitting in plain sight, no bloodstains on the floor, and no Kendall.

"No one's here," Logan whispered timidly.

James strained his ears and listened. Muted music could be heard emanating from somewhere beyond the vacant front counter, probably coming from a radio. With a sudden burst of courage, he called, "Fred Baker!"

Carlos straightened up and stuck out his chin, doing his best to look daunting. Even Logan stood a bit more erect and narrowed his eyes into a glare as the door to the kitchen swung open. James merely braced himself, heart thudding so hard it rocked his entire frame.

Fred Baker was an exact match to the picture on his website. Tall, lean, blond and young. Light stubble peppered his chin, and over his straw-like hair was a puffy white hat. He wiped his hands over his apron and greeted the three boys with a friendly smile. "Hi," he said. "What can I help you with today?"

He certainly didn't sound evil. But James was always taught never to judge a book by its cover.

"I'll tell you what you can help us with," Carlos growled, advancing to stand even with James. "Give us our friend back!"

"Yeah!" cried James, pointing an accusing finger. "Where do you have Kendall?"

Slowly, the baker's smile faded. He stared at them, crinkling his brow. "Um, sorry?"

"Don't play dumb, Baker," hissed James. "Kendall Knight. Ran away from home two days ago. You know where he is, and you'd better tell us."

The baker was taken aback. He held out both flour-coated hands. "Whoa, guys, hang on. What are you talking about?"

"Kendall had an address to your bakery in his room!" Carlos exclaimed. "Then he ran away for some reason, and _you_ know why!"

"So you better start talking," said James.

"We have a bat in the car," added Carlos.

Fred Baker quirked an eyebrow. "I have a bat under the counter."

"…Touché."

Baker shook his head back and fourth, then abruptly stopped, as if he remembered something. "Wait, Kendall Knight?" he asked. As James and Carlos confirmed, Baker squatted down and searched for something below the cash register. Being he was standing out front, James held his arms out at his sides and took a small step backwards, cautioning his two friends to do the same.

But Baker didn't reveal a weapon. He showed a photograph. "This kid?"

James squinted. It was the same picture of Kendall that Mrs. Knight had given Officer McNair. "Yeah," he said, voice nearly dying in his throat at the sight of Kendall's happy expression.

Baker laid the photo against the counter. "A police officer came in here yesterday," he informed. "He told me to keep a look out for this kid incase he stopped by." He cast his gaze to the picture, frowning thoughtfully. "It's kinda sad. My niece loves Big Time Rush."

James felt his jaw go slack. But against his brain's order, he couldn't close his mouth. He stared at the baker in dumbfounded silence.

Carlos crossed his arms. "That's a very convincing story," he said, seemingly unperturbed. "But would you mind if I take a look myself?"

Before the baker could protest, Carlos was marching around the counter and forcefully pushing open the door to the back of the store. James was surprised when Logan followed.

"Hey!" shouted the man. "You guys can't go back there! Hey, stop!"

James jumped at his booming voice, becoming more concerned when Baker stormed after Carlos and Logan after they vanished into the room. James held his breath as he approached the counter and leaned forward, aiming to peer through the tiny window on the door. The baker hollered at them to leave, face red in frustration and utter confusion. James would have given anything just then to know what was going through Logan's mind. Normally sensitive to raised voices and criticism, Logan appeared to ignore every shout from the baker's mouth and instead focused solely on opening doors to storage closets and checking around corners.

Suddenly, Fred Baker lunged forward. He snatched the back of Carlos's collar, then grabbed Logan by a fistful of his shirt. The two boys were dragged effortlessly out of the backroom, struggling to get free.

James stepped back and readied himself to fight. But the baker only shoved the boys out of his grip, then pointed furiously to the door. "You three need to leave, now."

"Not until you tell us where Kendall is!" James cried, a little distractedly as he examined his friends for signs of injury.

"Don't you think I would have called the police if I saw your friend?" Fred retorted in exasperation. "Now get out of my store before I _do_ call the cops!"

James felt as though something had broken inside of him, but nonetheless retained character as he muttered, "Let's go, guys." He didn't forget to shoot the store owner a threatening glare before he stepped outside.

His mind was whirling so rapidly it hurt. So the baker really _didn't _have any clue where Kendall was? And Kendall _hadn't_ been there? "Did you guys see anything weird in the back?" James asked as the three shuffled to the car.

Carlos shook his head disappointedly, eyes glued downcast. Logan continued walking and said nothing, his shoes scraping loudly over the pavement.

James stopped a few feet in front of the vehicle. A warm breeze fluttered by and pushed a few strands of hair in his face, but he made no attempt to fix it. His body was still trying to decide how to feel as Logan slumped against the black side of the car and pressed his face into the crook of his arm. James couldn't stand to watch Logan's back quiver; he turned away.

He placed both hands on his head and closed his eyes, fighting off a stinging sensation creeping in on his retinas. His throat was beginning to feel tight and achy, so he cleared it, hoping to alleviate some pressure. It didn't do much good.

No. No, no, no. This couldn't be it. This couldn't be the end. There had to be something. _Anything_.

As he pondered, he paced to the opposite side of the vehicle, away from Logan. His breaths were quickening as he stumbled and collapsed against the exterior. He took only a moment to feel sorry for himself, then replaced his self-loathing with anger. Letting out a cry, he smacked both fists against the car.

He must have missed something. Overlooked some miniscule detail. Did they have the correct building number? Maybe he and Logan made a mistake while typing in the address on the computer. Hands shaking, James unfolded the piece of paper tucked away in his pocket. It remained unchanged; still the same, hurried handwriting reading 1702 Weylin Road, a splotch of purple on one corner.

"This…," he murmured to himself. "This… this can't be it…"

A tear almost fell, but he wiped it away, inwardly cursing.

It was his fault. Everything was his fault. He was the one who decided it was a good idea to search Kendall's room. He deemed the address and valuable piece of evidence. He defended Kendall's absence as significant.

"_Darn it, Kendall_!" he shrieked, thumping another fist against the car. A startled yelp came from Logan, but he ignored it.

No. No, no, _no_! He _wouldn't._ He wouldn't leave. Kendall _couldn't._ There had to be something. There had to be…

He could barely reread the paper when he held it up a second time, as his vision was severely blurred. He lifted it to the sun, searching for a watermark. He flipped the paper around and scrutinized the backside. Rotated it at every angle, hoping for a new way to read the writing.

There was nothing.

Maybe there was always a tiny sliver of doubt within him. But he always pushed it back, preventing it from manifesting into a full-out concern, like Logan. Darn it, why didn't he listen to Logan? Logan tried to tell them. The smart boy wasn't annoying or paranoid, he was _right_.

James peered down into the palm of his hand. He gritted his teeth, intending to crush the stupid, useless piece of paper and let it fly away in the wind.

But he stopped. Something dawned upon him.

He may have been grasping at straws. His desperate desire to find another clue may have been clouding his better judgment. But… It made so much _sense…_

"Guys." He hustled to the other side of the car, finding Logan in the same position and Carlos standing awkwardly to the side, hugging his arms around his body and staring forlornly at his feet. "Guys, I think I found something."

Carlos immediately perked up. He turned his attention to James, eyes sparkling with newfound curiosity. "What?"

Logan slowly peeled himself away from the car, wiping at his face. "Please don't, James," he whispered.

James paused, heart leaping to his throat. He'd never heard Logan speak in such a dismal tone. It almost made him reconsider. Almost. He couldn't, now that there was still a chance.

Carlos still watched him expectantly. James licked his lips in thought, adjusting his baseball cap as another light wind blew through. Finally, he spoke, tone quiet. "Just hear me out, okay?"

Uncertainly, Logan sniffled and turned around, studying with red-rimmed eyes the address in James's outstretched hand.

"Look at the handwriting," said James.

"What about it?" Logan's voice was still unusually despondent.

"It's messy."

"So?"

"So, maybe we read it wrong."

Logan let out a growl and tossed his hands up in frustration, eyes flashing. "Stop trying to make this into something it's not, James!"

James recoiled in surprise.

"It's the end of the road!" shouted Logan. "It's done! Finished! Kendall isn't here! He never was, and he never will be! He's gone, James! He's gone and he's _never coming back_!" A strange noise that could have been a sob emerged from Logan's mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand over his face, attempting to calm himself.

Carlos stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked away.

"Let's…," Logan muttered, disconcerted. "Let's just… go home."

James blinked. "No."

"Let's at least hear what he has to say, Logan," Carlos said, quietly.

Logan whipped towards the innocent Latino. "Oh, so you're taking his side now?" he snapped.

Carlos raised his eyebrows. "I'm not taking _anyone's_ side," he said. "I just think it would be fair to hear what James is thinking."

Muttering a bitter remark under his breath, Logan shook his head and turned away from the two. James took it as his only opportunity to voice his theory. "Okay," he started, once again holding up the paper. "I've been looking at the address. And the handwriting is really messy. So I thought, maybe, you know… We didn't read it right." Pause. "Guys. What if the two is a Z?"

Carlos approached James and grabbed the paper from his hand. "1-7-0-_Z_ Weylin Road?" he thought aloud. "But what would the Z stand for?"

James shrugged, happy Carlos was at least considering his suggestion. "Maybe an apartment number or something? I don't know."

"Yeah, you _don't_ know!" Logan spun around and stomped up to James, face flushed red. "A _Z_? Really?" Tears filled his eyes. "This is so _stupid_! What were we thinking? Why is it so hard to believe Kendall could have left? Why can't you guys get it through your heads that maybe he was sick of… sick of something! Everything! Whatever! Why is that _so hard_ to understand? Just because he's _Kendall_ doesn't mean he's _Superman_—"

"Would you _shut up_?" screamed James, cutting off the vicious outburst with a hard shove to Logan's shoulders. He didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to hear _any_ of Logan's negative 'logic.' He'd listened to Logan's pessimism the entire car ride, and he'd had enough. Who the heck was Logan to start accusing Kendall of giving up on them when Kendall was _missing_? "Just stop it, Logan!"

Carlos gasped, but remained frozen in place.

Logan regained his footing from James's push and marched forward, tears spilling freely down his cheeks. Their faces were only inches apart. "Just admit it!" he cried, strident voice echoing off nearby buildings. "You know as well as I do that you're in denial about this whole thing! Face it, James! Kendall isn't here! He's _gone_, and he isn't coming _back_!"

James hit him.

Right across the face, a forceful blow from his clenched fist. There was no hesitation, no consideration of what was right and what was wrong. Without missing a beat, he cried out and lunged at the smaller boy, who was still recovering from the punch. James threw his body atop Logan's, both of them crashing to the ground. He brought another fist back and stuck a hard jab to Logan's stomach, feeling a sick sense of pleasure as he heard the air rush from Logan's lungs.

"Guys!" Carlos shrieked, fearfully. "Guys, hey! Knock it off!"

James could barely hear him. Every miserable feeling inside of him was gone and replaced with burning rage. His distraught thoughts were so strong that he couldn't repress a few sobs of disdain from spilling from his mouth.

He wasn't expecting Logan to fight back. Before James had a change to dodge, the boy pinned underneath him growled and thrust a leg upwards, knocking James away. James rolled to the side, body coming into contact with Carlos's feet.

"Quit it!" the Latino continued to plead. "Guys, seriously, stop!" He reached down and grabbed James's arm, aiding him upright.

James shrugged off the hand. He cried out, once again leaping at Logan, who was scrambling to his feet. James missed. It was a costly mistake.

Logan slammed a fist into James's side. His mewl of pain was silenced by a punch of equal strength to his jaw. Blood spluttered from James's lips as he lost his balance and fell back onto the pavement.

"Logan!" Carlos shouted. He latched both arms around Logan's waist to prevent the furious boy from lashing out again. But Logan fought and struggled, his heated objections mixing in with Carlos's own disapproving words. Logan managed to get an elbow back, knocking Carlos's helmet off his head.

The two boys wrestled to the ground as James staggered to the tangled ball of limbs, his face throbbing. He yanked Carlos away from Logan and punched again, catching Logan off-guard.

"That's enough!" screeched Carlos. He wedged his body between the two and held out his arms.

"Shut up, Carlos," James snapped, reaching over his friend's shoulders to make a dive for Logan.

"Just cool it!" Carlos continued to plead. "Stop trying to kill each other! Come on, Kendall wouldn't want us to fight, would he?"

James stilled himself, panting hard. He noticed Logan was making no attempts to carry on their skirmish. The dark-haired boy was rubbing his face in discomfort, a pained look in his eyes.

James wasn't done. "What, now you're not man enough to fight me?"

Logan's moment of weakness was gone in an instant. Both fists were clenched at his sides again. Carlos faced him, hands raised in a warning to keep distance.

"What can't you just accept that this is the end?" Logan demanded to know. "Why can't you accept that there's nothing here? That we got into all this trouble and put our families through all this worry for nothing?"

"Because," rebuked James, "I'm not going to give up on this! I'm not going to give up on Kendall!"

"How do you know Kendall hasn't give up on us!"

"Guys, I mean it. Cut it out," Carlos said, sternly.

"Because he wouldn't, Logan! He wouldn't do that! He always tells us never to give up! He wouldn't just go and abandon us unless he had a good reason!"

"You can't even think of a reason!"

"Just because I can't think of one doesn't mean there isn't one!"

"Chill out! Come on, calm down!"

Logan was on the verge of sobbing. "You keep trying to make this into something it's not!"

James had no remorse. His tongue craved spite, his fists trembled in want of malice. Nothing mattered except raising his voice even higher. "If that's what you think then why did you even come with us? Why didn't you just stay home?"

"Maybe I should have!" Logan bellowed. "And you know what, James? I'm going home right now! You can have fun walking wherever you're going! And don't expect me to come help you when you want to come home because I am so _sick _of you right now!"

"Fine by me!" he screamed. He twisted around on his heel and began to cross the lot, mind void of any notion regarding a destination.

From behind him, Carlos was pleading. "No, guys, stop."

James didn't listen. He couldn't listen. His ears were humming with tension, and he was ready to snap a second time. Blood was gushing from his split lip, and he found the taste delicious.

"Wait, please. Logan, James, _wait_. I can't… I mean, what…?" Carlos was obviously frantic, confused, and lost of how to react. But his begging had no effect. James's heavy footsteps crunched over the pavement, and he had no intent of stopping.

"No, guys, _please_. I—What do I…? _Guys_, come on, you can't do t-this… Y-you can't… You can't make me choose! Please!"

The breeze that had been blowing occasionally once again picked up, and it cooled James's face just a bit. He hoped he _did _get lost. And he hoped Logan _didn't _find him.

More and more he moved away, and less and less he heard Carlos.

"Logan, please. James?… You guys, I can't choose. Y-You… You can't leave… Please, stop! _Stop_! Please stop, I—I can't…!"

He didn't care that his knuckles were stinging from repeated punches. Didn't care that Carlos was calling desperately for the two to come back. Didn't care that he had damaged his friendship with Logan. Didn't care that he was walking away. He just _did not care_. His heart, normally brimming with optimism and happy-go-lucky mirth, had transmuted into a cold, dark mass. He felt nothing but contempt and scorn and he just wanted to _leave_, to keep walking until he fell off the side of the planet.

And for the briefest of seconds, the thought crossed his mind that maybe this was how Kendall had felt when he walked out the front door.

Right when James thought there was nothing left, not a single thing that could make him return, the most shrill scream he ever heard pierced the air. He jumped; the noise was almost inhuman: "_Don't make me choose_!"

James immediately turned, startled by Carlos's outcry. The Latino had fallen to his knees, both hands gripping fistfuls of his hair in utter disconsolation. His entire frame quaked with loud, harsh sobs.

Tears leapt to James's eyes. As his heart thawed from its icy casing he could only stare. His body tingled unpleasantly as raw guilt ripped through his chest. Flicking his gaze up, he saw that Logan had also paused dead in his tracks, shoulders visibly drooping as the vindictiveness boiling inside him simmered down.

James remained frozen, waiting for Logan to make the first move. He didn't need to remain patient long. The smaller boy briefly looked up to the sky, then started a brisk walk towards Carlos. James watched as Logan dropped to the pavement beside Carlos, reaching out to place both hands on the Latino's arms. Logan murmured something, but Carlos wouldn't look at him. He took hold of Carlos's wrists and gently lowered them, Carlos mumbling incoherent words around his hysterics throughout the entire process.

James finally commanded his feet to move when Logan shot him a concerned look. His legs were shaking as he trudged towards his fellow band mates. The moment he reached Carlos, he lowered himself to the ground and placed a comforting hand on his friend's trembling shoulders.

"Carlos, we're sorry," Logan offered, voice strangely unwavering. "Listen, okay? Listen to me."

Carlos gasped something incomprehensible. His face shone wetly, and every strangled sob caused jolts of his defeated body.

James gave the shoulder a light, playful jostle, trying his best to keep his eyes off Logan. Knowing he had caused the marks on Logan's face suddenly made him disgusted with himself.

"Hey," Logan said, gently. He placed one protective hand on the back of Carlos's head and pulled him forward, their foreheads hovering close together in order to catch Carlos's attention. "You listening?"

Carlos sniffled and quivered, keeping his leaking eyes downcast. He managed a slight nod before a couple more cries of emotion tore out of his throat.

"We're not going anywhere, okay?" Logan assured. "Me and James are staying right here. We're not leaving you. We would never leave you." Logan leaned back, though kept his fingers weaved in Carlos's hair. "Understand?"

Carlos gave no acknowledgement aside from a few whimpers. He reached up and rubbed at the side of his neck, desperately attempting to cease his tears.

James wished to offer his own apology, but his throat was swelled so tightly he wasn't sure he could manage. He ultimately kept his mouth shut and delivered periodic squeezes to the crying boy's shoulder.

Time was lost. The two boys waited patiently for Carlos to pull himself together. He wiped the sleeve of his shirt across his eyes and nose, cheeks burning pink.

Logan used his hand to affectionately nudge Carlos's head, ruffling the Latino's hair with brotherly warmth. Carlos leaned into the touch.

"Do…," he started with a sob. "Do you promise? Y-You promise you… w-won't leave?"

James and Logan looked at each other and answered simultaneously. "Promise."

Their words seemed to make Carlos feel better. James rubbed a soothing circle on Carlos's back. "I'm sorry, man," he choked out.

"S'okay," Carlos murmured.

Logan abruptly stood. "Come on."

"Huh?" James stared at him.

Logan grabbed Carlos's arm and assisted him to his feet. James also rose, confused. He was even more confounded when Logan began to march confidently towards the bakery. "Logan, hey. Where are we going?" James asked, struggling to keep up. Carlos lagged behind, still wiping his face.

"We're going to find out where 170Z Weylin Road is," Logan answered simply.

The taller boy shared a glance with Carlos. He was about to question Logan more, but Logan shoved open the door to the bakery. "Fred Baker!"

The man at the front counter raised a baseball bat high over his head and gasped in surprise. "W-What do you want?"

Logan smirked. "We need directions to the nearest public library."


	12. Silence

**A/N: It's finally time to check in on Kendall! This chapter isn't meant to give away _too_ many answers, so you still should be pretty confused at the end. But don't worry, everything will be revealed in time. This chapter is where the story gets its T rating. It's not quite that halfway point I mentioned earlier, but it's still pretty intense. Please note the warnings below. Thank you so much to all who read and reviewed the last chapter! :D Also, I apologize in advance for any type-os... I think there may be a few. Just ignore them.**

**Warnings: Violence, references to violence, angst, language.**

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Chapter 12  
Silence

Kendall's eyes snapped open.

A low, guttural groan radiated from the back of his throat as he struggled to clear his vision. For several moments he saw double. The two doors in front of him appeared as hazy silhouettes, outlined in fuzzy blurs. Kendall blinked. Slowly, the doors morphed into one; the single barrier which separated him from his captors.

He let out a deep breath of air, swallowing back acrid bile in his throat. For the past half hour, he had been drifting in and out of sleep. Or maybe consciousness. He wasn't sure. As time sluggishly passed, he found it increasingly difficult to stay awake. His tired eyes and body craved a decent repose, and they were taking it by force—whether Kendall liked it or not.

He exhaled a long, pained sigh. All his joints burned and ached. He desperately wished to shift positions; maybe sit up a bit straighter. But doing so required movement, and any sort of repositioning sent a wave of prickly tingles plaguing the lower half of his body—a pins and needles feeling that would soon break his sanity. The fixed restraints on his ankles were cutting off his blood circulation, leaving his feet numb.

He sat on a straight-backed wooden chair, arms firmly behind him with more ropes tied agonizingly tight around his wrists. His chin nearly touched his chest, as he was too exhausted to lift his head from its slumped position. Moist, sticky hair matted to his scalp from blood and sweat. It itched, but Kendall couldn't do a thing about it.

He needed water. And food. Badly.

But he wouldn't ask for it. No. He'd rather die than beg those freaks to keep him alive.

Kendall coughed weakly. The action felt like sandpaper grinding against his raw throat, and he winced. He was completely lost to time, unsure of how long he'd been this humid, musty-smelling room. A day, maybe two.

He refused to speak to the men doing this. He wouldn't ask them to loosen the ropes, wouldn't ask for anything to eat, and definitely wouldn't ask for anything to drink. That's what they wanted him to do. To ask, to _beg_.

Hah. Yeah right.

Surely about to go stir-crazy, Kendall knew he would need to chance a minor relocation. The pain would be worth it if any amount of pressure was eased from his fatigued muscles.

"Ah!" he hissed, attempting to lift his heavy head. His breath hitched in his throat. The dirty plaid shirt covering his torso was soaked in hot sweat from his endeavors. Determined, Kendall set his jaw, clenched his teeth, and bit back a moan of pain.

His exceedingly stiff neck and shoulders caused nearly insufferable pain. They creaked and clicked, bones making sickening _pops_. He groaned. Whimpered. Gasped. Finally managed to scoot up in his seat. He even arched his back slightly.

It was a glorious feat, and despite how uncomfortable he continued to feel, Kendall mentally congratulated himself on his victory. With his body a bit more vertical than it had been previously, blood came rushing to his head. For a moment he wavered, fearing he would topple over in his chair. His vision faded to black, so he squeezed his eyes shut to fight off the sensation. When the wave of nausea passed him and the pressure in his ears lessened, more aches and pains made themselves present on Kendall's body. The tender skin around his right eye began to throb.

After spending eight hours in a car with a burlap sack over his head and string binding his wrists, he was forcibly dragged into the building. Kendall was fuming, insisting the men keep their disgusting hands off him. It angered one of the guys, a short, spiky-haired thug named Jace, and Kendall became a human punching bag for a couple hours. The right side of his face took the worse beating. Any sort of facial expression aside from the impassive one he had been sporting for some ungodly amount of time pained him greatly; his taut skin was swollen and bruised deeply. The rusty taste on his lips told him it was split open, and his stomach still ached from a particularly powerful blow to his abdomen.

The knob on the door before him began to twist. Kendall's heart skipped a beat, and he braced himself. The door opening was something he feared, because it meant one of two people were about to reveal themselves: Rodney or Jace, his two captors.

In this case, it was a tall, strong-looking man. Thick, wavy brown hair, square jaw, broad forehead, grey eyes and biceps larger than Kendall's head in circumference. Rodney.

It was a relief. Rodney intimidated Kendall for sure, but he was much more wary of Jace.

Not that Kendall would let them know it.

Rodney stepped into the large room, shutting the door gently behind him. Kendall forced himself to look the man in the eye, narrowing his gaze into a dark glower. Rodney crossed his brawny arms over his chest and stared at Kendall in silence. Kendall shifted uneasily in the man's scrutiny.

If Rodney was trying to look threatening, it was working.

But only a few seconds later, the man turned. He strode to the far right corner of the dimly-lit room where a plastic, five-gallon bucket waited. With an irritated grunt, the man grabbed the bucket by its handle and returned to Kendall. He dropped the pail with a noisy clatter several feet in front of the teen.

"Piss break," Rodney muttered. He stuck a hand in his back pocket and revealed a shiny, silver switchblade. Kendall involuntarily shuddered as Rodney moved behind him, out of sight. With a jerk of the man's hand, the rope wrapped around Kendall's wrists broke with a snap. His arms slumped flaccidly at his sides. A blissful exhale of relief burst from his lungs as he decided the release of pressure on his wrists was the most wonderful thing he had ever felt.

The dreaded pins and needles feeling immediately crept up Kendall's arms as blood began pumping, but it wasn't hardly horrible enough to hinder his gratification. Rodney slowly shuffled back in Kendall's field of vision, and Kendall knew he was being allowed a few moments to flex and stretch. It was one of the reasons he favored Rodney over Jace. If Jace were the one handling the situation, Kendall would have been yanked up on his feet already.

But Kendall's arms were limp and dead. When he attempted to lift them, they shook and quivered from lack of use. Distressing twinges rocketed through his muscles.

His cheeks tinged pink. This was so humiliating.

"Okay, let's go," grumbled Rodney. He placed his hands underneath Kendall's arms and pulled upwards, aiding Kendall to stand. Kendall's ankles were still fastened together, so Rodney kept a firm grip on the blond's upper arm, holding the exhausted boy upright.

Kendall tottered and gasped, the sudden rush of blood once again causing him lightheadedness. His knees buckled under his own weight, but Rodney prevented him from collapsing. Kendall blinked, fighting off temporary blindness.

He'd been given about four bathroom breaks since he'd been tied to his chair. Each time the same procedure was followed. Rodney would enter from the mysterious door, cut the ropes on Kendall's hands, and help him stand. A bucket was placed in front of him, where Kendall was supposed to do his business. Rodney kept his hands on Kendall at all times, ensuring he wouldn't try to escape. But Kendall knew that even if he _was _strong enough to attempt a getaway, he wouldn't. There was too much at risk.

Kendall got his bearings a few moments later, and with shaking hands, reached down to undo his belt. Rodney moved his hands from under Kendall's arms to just above his waist. Kendall had to resist the urge to break away and shrug off the uncomfortable touch.

His sweaty fingers slipped as he attempted to work the clasp. His rosy cheeks burned from seething rage and mortification. Never in his life had be been so vulnerable, so powerless. He detested the thought of anyone seeing him like this.

He continued to fumble with his belt, a mixture of anger and nerves boiling inside of him as he did so. Perspiration poured into his eyes, causing him to blink rapidly in order to fight away the salty stinging. The room had to be eighty-five degrees. And it probably didn't help that he was anxious and jittery, Rodney's hands were on him, he couldn't undo his stupid belt buckle, his throat was so dry he could barely swallow, and the constant fear Jace or Rodney would harm his friends was swallowing his brain and making his heart thud even faster in panic…

Finally, the belt buckle came loose. His hands trembled even more violently as he groped for the button and zipper on his jeans. The first time his bathroom break came around, his greatest fear was relieving himself while Rodney held his waist and waited. "It's either the bucket or your pants, kid," Rodney had told him. So, Kendall eventually chose the former.

He awkwardly pushed down his jeans and boxers, doing his best to position himself over the bucket. Rodney turned his head away, like he always did, muttering curses. Kendall only hoped it was because it was the man's least favorite part of his job.

Kendall didn't even have to go; he'd sweated out anything that could have been in his bladder, anyway. It took him nearly a minute to relax himself enough to try. He kept his gaze low, away from the man beside him, using every bit of willpower he could possibly muster to battle his fury. Regardless of his current state, Kendall knew if Rodney opened his mouth to say _anything_, Kendall would be letting his fists fly. He couldn't hold it back anymore. He was sick and tired of these jerks degrading him and threatening him and hurting him. Though, a punch from Kendall would probably feel like getting hit by a pillow. He wasn't strong enough to do any damage. Attempting to harm his captor would only make things worse. He needed to stay calm and obedient for the sake of his friends.

Truth be told, Kendall had not yet discovered the exact reason _why_ he was here. Rodney and Jace informed him of nothing. They had cornered him in the restroom at Fun Burger and held a gun to his chest, then thrust a manila envelope in his hands and told Kendall to go home and read it. And if he said a word to anyone, Jace would personally end the life of a member of Big Time Rush.

To say he was confused was a dramatic understatement. That night, Kendall located a letter of instructions within the jumble of photographs he'd discovered tucked inside the envelope. The note told him to be meet at the front of the Palm Woods at midnight. The penalty for disobeying was the death of one of the people in the photographs.

Were they serious, or not? Kendall couldn't be sure. And he wasn't going to risk it.

At least by not knowing the reason why he was here, Kendall had something to pass the time. Sitting alone in silence all day took a toll on him mentally, and he quickly realized he needed to keep his mind occupied. He had many theories about why the two guys wanted him, but mainly considered one: money.

The first few hours he was tied to the chair (and after Jace beat him up), the spiky-haired man strode into the room with a digital camera in hand, told Kendall to look up, and snapped a few pictures. So for all Kendall knew, his face was being shown on every news screen across America as his captors demanded a large sum of money for his safe return. And because Big Time Rush was slowly climbing their way up the fame ladder, it was probably a hefty amount. But why _Kendall_? Because he was the so-called leader of the group? Or because he just happened to use the bathroom at Fun Burger alone? He had no idea.

The only downside to guessing his reasons for captivity were the thoughts of his friends that relentlessly invaded his mind. He wondered if Jace and Rodney were keeping their word and not harming anyone. Going with those guys was a huge risk, Kendall knew, but if he would have stayed and called the police and something would have happened to either James, Carlos or Logan, Kendall wouldn't have been able to live with himself.

When Kendall was finished using the bucket, he reached down to pull up his jeans. His wobbly legs nearly gave out again, and Rodney had to catch him.

Another wave of heat washed over his already blushing skin. Kendall refastened his belt, and Rodney removed his hands, letting Kendall stand on his own.

"Sit."

The thought of once again sitting in the uncomfortable chair nearly made him scream. Biting the inside of his cheek to take some focus off the pain, Kendall pushed his creaky arms forward and cracked his knuckles, getting in one last stretch before he was forced to wait again for hours.

Suddenly impatient, Rodney used a strong hand to give Kendall a shove. He lost his balance, as expected, and flopped down into the chair. Kendall tensed, fist twitching with desire to harm.

Rodney dug out a large section of rope from his pockets and moved behind Kendall's chair. He yanked Kendall's arms backwards, causing the boy to let out a small cry of both pain and surprise. Kendall didn't struggle, and the ropes were tied around his hands with ease.

His captor stood, made a face, and grabbed the handle of the bucket. He walked back to the corner of the room and set it on the ground. Without further acknowledgement, he reached the door and disappeared behind it, once again leaving Kendall in solitude.

The silence. That was another thing Kendall hated. He was just starting to get used to the hustle and bustle of the city of Los Angeles, and there sure was never a quiet day with James, Carlos and Logan around. The stillness of the room was unfamiliar.

So, sometimes, he would hum Big Time Rush songs. Never too loud, because he didn't want Jace or Rodney to hear him and get mad. Unfortunately, his throat was too scratchy and sore, and any more use of his vocal cords than necessary would only make it worse. He desperately needed something to quench his thirst.

Kendall sighed.

His neck was feeling a little less stiff, so he took the opportunity to gaze around the room. Nothing had changed. It was still a very large, empty, ridiculously muggy room. With lackadaisical eyes he peered down at the smooth, concrete floor, then up at the many rows of lights, half of which were burnt out and black. He knew that behind him the wall was one big, white door. Probably used by trucks, like a loading dock. Also behind him, in the far right corner of the giant room, was a smaller, normal door. That was the door he had entered from, so he knew it led outside.

The wall to his right was primarily barren, except for several graffiti drawings and a few random strips of plastic that hung like curtains from duct tape. The wall to the left, however, was lined with old wooden shelves, stocked only with cobwebs and thick layers of dust.

High to his right and high to his left were rows of grimy, cracked windows. Kendall could see nothing beyond the foggy glass with exception of the sky, which may have been the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. He had yet to witness one cloud mar the boundless blue, and he found his heartbeat quickening with every upwards glance in fear a grey puff would be staring back at him in place of the current splendor.

Roughly twenty feet in front of him was the door which Rodney and Jace resided behind when they weren't in the same room as Kendall. He hadn't a clue where the door led; all Kendall knew was that his pulse quickened every time it opened.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. All in distressing stillness.

Kendall shivered for a reason he could not understand. His body was practically on fire. He could feel beads of sweat roll down the back of his neck and the sides of his face. His head was heavy on his shoulders, and the familiar urge to vomit began to take root.

He pondered back to the time Hawk, Gustavo's rival, had kidnapped Kendall, Carlos, James and Logan in hopes the friends would miss their first concert. Though, Hawk and his assistant had made it clear that as soon as the Big Time Rush fans abandoned the concert, he would free them.

So, Kendall did have some experience being tied to a chair. However, when he was with Hawk, the guys were restrained for all of ten minutes before Carlos the Unnamed Superhero toppled down a flight of stairs and ultimately freed them. Not to mention Hawk told them that he wasn't going to harm the boys, just keep them out of sight until the crowd dispersed.

A sudden pang of emotion flared in Kendall's chest. His friends and family thought he had ran away and abandoned them. No one was looking for him. The guys were probably devastated and hurt, and if Kendall ever got out of this alive, they would never forgive him.

Kendall scolded himself for getting so emotional. He knew what he was getting into when he left the apartment. His friends, mother and sister may be shattered, but it was worth it, whether they knew it or not.

Without warning, the door in front of Kendall opened. Another shiver racked through his body. He could feel his legs tremble, and for a moment was actually glad for the ropes around his ankles. Because the man who stood at the door was the man he feared the most.

Jace was short, compared to Rodney. His stature was similar to Logan's—small, but deceivingly strong. His arms, covered in dark tattoos, were shown off by a sleeveless t-shirt. A pencil-thin scar cut across the right side of his face and disappeared into his dark-blond hair, which was about the same length as James's, but jutted up in soft, messy spikes.

Jace tossed a bottle of water at Kendall. Kendall tensed as it bounced off his lap and rolled onto the floor. He glared, narrowing his eyes in the most threatening, vicious way he could manage.

"Thirsty?" asked Jace. "There you go."

Kendall set his jaw, fuming. He said nothing.

Jace took a step forward, holding out his arms with a patronizing smirk. "I'll pick it up for you."

Silence.

"All you gotta do is ask," the man said.

Kendall's green eyes bore hard into his dark ones.

"I'll untie your hands and let you have it. Even serve it on a silver platter, if you want." Jace smiled insolently, the corners of his mouth raising like they were being tugged by a string. "But first, I wanna hear you tell me you want it." He paused, waiting to get a reaction out of the boy seated in the chair. When he didn't get one, he continued. "And you got about five minutes to convince me. I'm expecting a phone call."

Kendall couldn't bite his tongue any longer. He ignored the twinges in his face and offered a smug grin, finding enjoyment from picturing Jace's reaction to his words. "If you want me to beg," he started, voice hoarse and gravelly from disuse, "then how about you untie my feet so I can get on my hands and knees? I can shine your shoes while I'm at it. Just say the word, boss."

Jaces's eyes flashed. In only seconds he was roaring and lunging forward, clenching a fistful of Kendall's hair and yanking his head backwards. "You really wanna beg, blondie?" he growled. The click of a switchblade was heard, and Kendall managed a strangled gasp before something cold and sharp was pressing against the underside of his chin. "Lemme hear it."

Kendall smirked. "Make me."

The tip of the blade punctured his skin, causing his body to twitch from the poke. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't terrified.

Jace tightened his hold on Kendall's hair. His voice was low and menacing, breath ghosting over Kendall's ear. "You're going to die. Unless I kill you first, you're going to dehydrate yourself. You'll waste away into nothing, right here on this chair. Then you'll never get to go home."

A warm stream of blood trickled down his neck as the knife was pushed harder against the wound. Kendall answered in a mumble, trying to make his mouth move as little as possible to prevent more damage. "What does it matter? You're not going to let me go home, anyway." Kendall hissed in pain, tensing in anticipation for Jace to either finish the job or pull back.

The man finally released his hold on Kendall's hair and stood erect, pocketing his weapon. "You never know, kid." He cracked his knuckles. "So I suggest you stop acting like a smartass and start using the magic word."

Before Kendall could even comprehend what was about to happen, Jace curled his hand into a fist and made contact to Kendall's jaw.

Kendall swallowed a cry of pain as his head snapped to the side. His eyes screwed shut, momentarily stunned. In his shock his mouth hung open, blood and saliva dripping onto the front of his shirt. He finally sputtered and looked up, meeting his captor's eyes. He almost considered sucking up his pride and asking for a drink, but shrugged the idea away as quickly as it came. He still had _some_ dignity.

Jace smiled haughtily, shaking the sting from his hand. He approached the water bottle laying neglected on the floor and picked it up. He slowly twisted open the cap and took a long drink. He even licked his lips when he was finished. "No?" he asked, holding the bottle out to Kendall.

Kendall glared coldly. He remained mute.

Jace set the bottle on the ground by his feet. He advanced towards Kendall casually, as if taking a leisurely stroll. Kendall watched him intently, feeling his heart thud in his ears. He hoped Jace didn't notice him trembling.

The man knelt in front of him. "I've been told not to tell you this," he said, voice dark and flat. "But you were right. You're not going home."

Kendall tensed.

"As soon as my boss gets here," he made his thumb and index finger into the shape of a gun and aimed at Kendall's head, "you're dead." He made a popping sound with his mouth, indicating a gunshot.

Kendall spat.

He had been collecting saliva in his mouth since Jace punched him, but even so, it was a minimal quantity. The pink liquid missed it's target—the freak's face—and instead struck the front of Jace's shirt.

The man shouted and jumped to his feet, looking disgustedly at his front. "Son of a bitch!" he cried, seizing Kendall's hair once again. Kendall yelped as Jace readied himself to throw a punch to his bruised face.

A cell phone ringing cut him off.

Jace froze immediately, panting hard. A thick vein throbbed on his temple, his teeth were gritted together in pure malice. Kendall couldn't look at him; he was too afraid.

The phone rang again.

With a hard shove Kendall was released, and he let out a breath of air he had been holding. Jace dug his phone from his pocket on its fourth ring. He pressed it to his ear as he disappeared behind the door, taking the bottle of water with him.

Silence once again.

Kendall moaned and let his body slouch back to its original position; head limply slumped forward, eyes closed. He almost cried. Almost. Because how the heck was _crying_ going to help his hapless situation?

Well, it wasn't. So why bother?

He sobbed. Only once. A tiny, pathetic noise, barely audible. Then he held his breath, hoping if he did so, no more cries of emotion could tear from his aching throat.

He was hot. Tired. Sore in places he didn't even know existed. Embarrassed. Thirsty. Hungry. More frightened and uncomfortable than he had ever been in his life. And not just scared for his own life, but for Carlos, Logan, and James.

What difference did it make if he cried, anyway? He was going to die with his friends and family thinking he willingly walked out and abandoned them. He was alone. He had no one to be strong for anymore.

He just needed to know if they were safe. After all, he had did this for them. He'd do anything for them. Brothers need to protect each other.

Then, thoughts drifted to his mother. His stomach hurt just thinking of how worried she must be. And Katie. For some reason he could only picture Katie as a three-year-old, when her world was full of beginnings and innocence and warmth. He remembered when her life's ambition was to be a princess who threw the best tea parties for her stuffed animal friends. She'd wear her little pink dresses, with little pink ribbons weaved in her hair, two little pink circles painted on her cheeks from her little pink makeup kit, and pour imaginary tea into her little pink cups. Sometimes she'd ask him if he thought she was pretty, and every time he would wipe away the paint and tell her she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

Then online poker and the Asian stock market got the best of her, and she cast off her pink trinkets the day she learned how to win five-card stud.

Did Katie even need him anymore? Would his absence really leave that much of an impact on her? After all, she had three other brothers to look after her.

No. No, he had to get home somehow. His mother needed him. Katie needed him. The guys needed him. And what about Jo…?

Giving up was the only thing he remained in control of. _He_ had the power to make that decision. He could submit himself to Rodney and Jace and accept the fact he was going to die here tired to the this stupid chair, or he could keep fighting and maybe—somehow—find a way out.

Jace and Rodney wanted him to abandon all hope. And he wasn't going to grant them that satisfaction.

Minutes later, the doorknob twisted and the two men both stepped into the room. Kendall looked up, all evidence of his previous moment of weakness gone.

Rodney crossed his arms and leaned against the closed door while Jace approached Kendall. The spiky-haired man began to pace the floor. "That was my boss on the phone," he reported.

Kendall swallowed. He had a strong feeling he didn't want to meet the mysterious third guy.

"He's almost here. Then things are gonna get a bit more interesting for you."

Kendall straightened up. "I don't care," he rasped. "As long as you hold up on your end of the deal."

Jace looked at Rodney, who merely raised his eyebrows, then turned back to face Kendall. A devilish smirk curved his lips as he spoke. "Don't worry, blondie. As long as you cooperate and nothing goes wrong, your friends will be just fine."


	13. Crossroads

**A/N: The average chapter length for this story so far is 5154 words, and this chapter came out at almost 3k. Shortest chapter yet! Haha. And I still made you all wait a week, I know. I've been sick with strep for a while. Ugh. But I'm mainly better now and ready to get back to work :) As always, thank you so much for reading and double thanks for reviewing. Please continue to do so :) I think chapter 14 will be very exciting. And long, possibly.**

**Warnings: None.**

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Chapter 13  
Crossroads

Carlos sighed and covered his ears with his hands. Logan and James had been talking constantly for five minutes, reiterating the same things over and over again.

"No, man, I started it. It's my fault."

"But I was the one who started yelling."

"Yeah, but I hit you first. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, no, I'm fine. What about you? You okay?"

"Yeah, you don't punch very hard."

"Okay, I—Hey, wait a second…"

Carlos groaned. He puffed out his cheeks and rolled his eyes, tired of listening to the never-ending apology. "Okay, okay, you're both sorry. Now hug and shut up."

Their lighthearted bickering ceased. As Logan stopped at a red light, the two turned their heads and shared glances with one another. James laughed and stuck out a hand, which Logan accepted and shook, wearing the same forgiving expression. Carlos knew his friends didn't care for hugging as much as he did, so a handshake was probably the best they could do. At least it seemed sufficient to Logan and James.

Carlos's face was still slightly pink, and he had contemplated speaking up for a while. He really didn't want to draw too much attention to himself after the whole incident at the parking lot. He felt like an idiot, crying like that in front of James and Logan. But it also frightened him. He had no idea where the emotions came from. It was as if they had been building up behind a black wall of pressure, until the force became too strong and they gushed forth like a breaking dam. And once it started, there was no way to suppress his tears.

He shuddered. It was hard to imagine what would have happened if the guys wouldn't have stopped. What were they thinking, anyway? Kendall was already gone. Why would they want to lose each other, too?

"You know," said Logan, peering out the window in search of their destination, "I think it's Carlos we should be apologizing to."

Carlos blushed harder. "No, it's fine," he mumbled, sinking lower in his seat. He turned his head away, hoping if he did so, no one would notice him.

"No, it's not," said James. "Logan's right." Then he sighed, and spoke with an unusual earnestness. "Carlos, we're sorry. But we're not leaving, okay? We promised we'd stick together, and that's exactly what we're going to—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Carlos interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Can we talk about something else now? Like how hungry I am? Because it's lunchtime, and I haven't eaten in like, forever."

"How can you possibly be thinking of food at a time like this?" wondered Logan.

"At a time like what?"

"At… you know. The crossroads of our journey."

It was just like Logan to speak in weird metaphors no one understood. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Logan patiently explained, "it kind of all comes down to this, right? I mean, if we search this new address on the computer and nothing comes up… then what do we do?"

Carlos hummed in thought.

"Or," continued the driver, "we could get a result for the address and it could be somewhere miles away. And I'll admit I'm a little wary about crossing state lines, because then this whole escapade becomes a federal offence, which is a serious mark on your criminal record…"

Carlos wished Logan didn't think so much ahead. It was way easier to go at life one step at a time. Take what comes and keep on going, right?

"It would be stupid to turn around now," James piped up. "We're already, what, eight hours from home? If 170Z Weylin Road is a real place, we need to investigate. No matter where it is."

"But what are we going to do when we run out of money?" Logan turned a corner and started down a long stretch of road. "I'm out of cash from buying gas and food, Carlos spent all his money on spray paint—which I'm still mad about, by the way. I mean, do you see all the people who stare at us?—and James, you spent a lot on clothes. We probably only have enough for another tank of gas." His eyes flicked downward to the speedometer. "Which we're going to need before we leave town."

James rubbed a hand over his face, pondering hard. "Well…," he drawled, thinking. "I guess we can just ration what we have." He turned around in his seat. "What do we have left for food?"

Carlos laughed nervously. "Um…"

"You ate it all, didn't you?" asked Logan, sounding not at all surprised.

"Not this." Carlos pushed aside a few empty plastic bags and revealed a pack of gum. "There's twelve pieces left." He stared longingly at the treat for a few moments, then popped one into his mouth. "Okay, eleven."

Logan looked like he was going to say something else, but he suddenly pointed out the window. "Hey, there it is."

Warrick Public Library was a small, old-looking building. A bicycle rack up front was at its full capacity; the parking lot was not. A flag pole stood in the center of a colorful flowerbed, which instantly reminded Carlos of his goldenrod. He hoped it was okay, wherever it was.

Logan parked the black and silver vehicle away from any other cars, like usual. Carlos made sure to put his baseball cap over his head before he exited the vehicle. The sun was high in the sky, a canopy of summer warmth making the town practically glow. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and jacket, already sweating from the heat.

He chomped loudly on his gum as the three boys made their way discreetly across the parking lot. The library must have had the air conditioning on, because chilly air burst from the doors and immediately engulfed Carlos's body upon entering. He had never exactly been in a library before, except for his school's library back in Minnesota, and one time when Logan needed to do some research and Carlos was somehow convinced to accompany him. It was so _boring_. Who wanted to sit around and be quiet and read books all day? Especially books without pictures.

Logan led the way into the building. Books upon books lined shelves to the left, and to the right were rows of computers. Logan pointed. "Let's go."

Carlos trailed behind, blowing a small bubble with his gum. It was already starting to lose it's flavor, and it certainly wasn't doing much to calm his rumbling stomach.

He followed his friends into the computer lab where a few people worked. Logan chose a computer in the corner of the room, as far away from the other bodies as possible.

James hovered over the back of Logan's chair as he pulled up a web browser. "Go to MapQuest," the taller boy urged.

Logan's pale fingers were already flying over the keyboard. "Got it."

Carlos stood passively behind, snapping his gum nervously.

"170Z Weylin Road," Logan murmured aloud as he punched in the address. He exchanged a look with James, then hit the enter key.

Carlos held his breath as the page loaded. A purple marker appeared in the state of California, about a hundred miles southwest of their current location.

"Hah!" James cried, beaming. "I knew it! Look, look! Click on it!"

"I'm clicking!" Logan exclaimed, fumbling for the mouse.

Carlos's brown eyes widened. He gulped loudly as he unintentionally swallowed his gum. And for a moment, he couldn't help but wonder if he was dreaming. Everything that had happened in the past two days was completely overwhelming and existed only because fate seemed to be favoring their side. Logan was right: this was crazy. It was rash, it was inane, it was illogical.

But it was real.

170Z Weylin Road was located in a town called Redgrove. It was an actual address—James's suspicions were correct. Carlos turned to his taller friend with a broad grin curving his lips, expecting to see an identical expression. James just stared at the monitor, breathing deeply and shakily.

Carlos grabbed his shoulder and offered it an encouraging shake. James didn't remove his eyes from the map on screen, but the touch pulled him from his thoughts and caused a smile to break out across his face.

"Okay, okay, wait," said Logan, though he was smirking, too. "Let's see what this place is."

Carlos maintained his grip on James's shoulder as he waited patiently for Logan to do more clicking and typing.

Another window popped up. A picture of a long, grey building appeared. Carlos squinted to read the text underneath the photo.

"Oh, man," mumbled Logan.

"Is that the place?" asked James.

"Yeah, that's the place."

Carlos gawked. The building looked old and run-down from years of disuse, with cracked windows and dull paint chipping off the sides. A large white door took up most of the space in the front, and the faint, faded outline of a large letter Z was visible on the outside.

"It's a storage unit," Logan informed. "Probably used for larger stores and companies in the area. Doesn't look like it's been used in a while."

Carlos wasn't sure if he should cheer or be afraid. "So what should we do?" he asked no one in particular. "Why would Kendall be there? It sounds kinda suspicious."

"Yeah," James agreed. Then he paused. "Good thing we got the bat." He and Carlos slapped five.

"Hmm," Logan said, tracing his finger over the path of their destination. "It looks like this place is easy to get to. We get on the highway for a while, and once we hit town we just follow Heffron Drive until we get to Weylin Road."

"Sweet!" Carlos cried. "Let's go!" He and James began to dart away, but stopped when Logan didn't follow. He remained seated in his chair, gazing at the monitor with disbelieving eyes.

"Logaaan," Carlos whined, tugging on his friend's sleeve. "Come on! This is no time to be wondering if this is a dream or not! Even if it is, we need to hurry and find Kendall before we wake up."

Logan shook his head and stood, quickly closing out of the windows. "Remember what I said, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, go on the highway until we get to Heifer Drive."

"No, Carlos, that wasn't it—"

"Who cares! Hurry up!" James urged, grabbing Logan's arm and forcibly dragging him out of the computer lab.

The boys stumbled out into the parking lot, all three nearly laughing. Carlos skipped to the car excitedly. He had a really good feeling about the 170Z place. Although, maybe he shouldn't, because an abandoned warehouse wasn't exactly a normal place for Kendall to be.

Of course, neither was a bakery.

"Let's hit the road," James declared, flipping on the radio. He leaned back in his seat with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

Logan lowered the volume as he slid into the driver's seat. "Hang on, we need gas."

Carlos noticed Logan and James's change of demeanor as Logan started the car and proceeded to a nearby gas station. He wished he would have went inside the station at Colby so he could have met the Dex guy his friends spoke of earlier.

"You know," said Carlos, "I bet Kendall is waiting for us to find him."

"What do you mean?" asked James.

"Maybe he's testing us. Maybe he wants to see if we're good friends."

"So stealing a car, painting one side black, driving illegally and switching license plates makes us good?" Logan murmured.

Carlos rolled his eyes. "I said good _friends_, not good _people_."

Logan sighed.

Being Warrick was so small, it took only a few moments of driving to locate a gas station. Logan commanded Carlos to stay in the car, because the Latino was jiggling in his seat with so much energy that Logan was afraid he'd bounce away and they'd never be able to catch him. It happened once in eighth grade.

James remained in the car to keep Carlos company while Logan went inside to pay. He turned around in his seat. "You really think Kendall's at this place?"

Carlos nodded vigorously.

A strange thing happened to James's lips. They almost looked like they turned into a frown. But that couldn't happen, right? Because James should be happy, not sad. "Hey," said Carlos, ceasing his fidgeting. "What's the matter?"

James cast a glance out the window, making sure Logan wasn't approaching. Then he exhaled, loudly. "What if Logan was right? What if I messed up again and this new place is nothing?" He lowered his voice. "I don't want him to hate me."

It was Carlos's turn to frown. "Logan won't hate you."

James rubbed his hand over a bruise on his face.

"Dude," said Carlos. "This whole trip you've been reminding us that no matter _what_ is going on with Kendall, we need to find him and bring him home. He wouldn't give up on us, so we need to return the favor. And I think Logan's finally starting to get that through his head."

James still looked doubtful. "He's only doing this for you, Carlos."

Carlos blinked. "Huh?"

"Because of what happened in the parking lot."

Carlos blushed again at the memory. He dropped his gaze as James flipped back to the front. He hadn't considered Logan's abrupt change of heart could have happened because of him.

Carlos contemplated in silence, staring at the car floor. It wasn't until a loud wail assaulted his ears that he looked up. Whizzing past on the road to the left was a police cruiser. Carlos rotated around and peered out the rear window, watching the car zoom down the street. The sirens ceased as it pulled into the library parking lot.

"Oh no," Carlos and James said in unison. But when Carlos faced forward, he saw that James wasn't watching the cop. His eyes were on Logan, who had just exited the building and had frozen dead in his tracks. His skin was so white he almost had a glare.

"You don't happen to have ear plugs, do you?" muttered James, bracing himself in anticipation for another Logan-freakout.

Carlos sighed disappointedly. "Nope."

Logan marched forward the moment he snapped from his apparent trance. He ducked into the car, breathing hard. "Did you see that? Please tell me you saw that."

"Logan—" James started, holding up a hand.

"WE'RE FUGITIVES!" screeched Logan.

Carlos prepared to locate the paper bag.

"You know, Logan, I have something to show you. Outside."

Considering Logan was in near-panic attack mode, he probably failed to notice the mischievous tone in James's voice which suggested he was formulating a plan.

Carlos raised his eyebrows in curiosity as James opened his door and readied himself to step out. Logan yelped and grabbed the taller boy's arm, restraining him. "No! Are you crazy? You can't go out there! We'll get caught! Close your door, we have to get out of here!"

"Not while you're freaking out," James replied, maintaining a calm voice. "And no one's going to catch us. We have disguises, Logan. And I changed the license plates, remember?"

"Yeah, b-but what if—"

"Just come here for two seconds, okay? Then we can leave."

Logan bit down on his lower lip. After a brief moment of hesitation, he gave a small nod and followed James out of the car. Carlos noticed both his friends pulled their hats lower on their heads as they exited the vehicle.

Logan remained by the side of the car, uneasily shifting his weight from one side to another, his concentration focused on the danger in the distance. Carlos tried to see out the back window, but James had opened the trunk and the door obstructed his view.

Carlos sighed, bored. He was about to settle back in his seat and wait for James to do whatever it was that he was doing, when the door opened. James smiled cheekily, holding up a limp Logan by his underarms.

"Aw," groaned Carlos, "you knocked Logan out?"

"Don't worry, I barely hit him," said James. He grunted, attempting to stuff the unconscious body in the backseat next to Carlos. "Scoot over."

Carlos did as he was told, sliding to the opposite end of the seat. He grabbed Logan's arms as James lifted his legs, and pulled the shorter boy into the car. Logan's body sprawled flaccidly across the grey leather, his head resting in Carlos's lap. "So you're going to drive?" asked the Latino.

"How hard can it be?" James slammed the door and quickly made his way to the driver's seat. He examined the steering wheel, as if expecting the thing to move on its own. "Um, okay. Which way do you turn the key?"

Carlos shrugged. He looked down at Logan, then patted his head sympathetically. "Just try both ways."

James must have found the correct direction, because the engine rumbled to life. He grinned, satisfied, then reached for the volume on the radio. "Time to find Kendall!"


	14. Before the Storm

**A/N: Hooray, a fast update! This chapter was really fun to write. I hope you like it. Also, please don't kill me.  
Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

**Warnings: Mild violence... and Carlos and James being weird, so, CAPS LOCK.**

* * *

Chapter 14  
Before the Storm

Carlos was truly afraid for his life.

Not because James was driving the car at eighty-five miles per hour, was changing lanes without signaling, or trying to restyle his hair and fiddle with the radio simultaneously—and possibly attracting the attention of law enforcement—but because Logan was beginning to wake up. It was a bit of a good thing, though, because while in his state of unconsciousness he had left a puddle of drool on the thigh of Carlos's jeans, and it was grossing him out.

Carlos gave Logan's head a gentle pat and called up to James. "Dude, he's starting to wake up."

James immediately eased up on the gas pedal. He sighed. "Well, it had to happen sooner or later."

Carlos frowned, tensing in anticipation for another harsh reprimanding he was certain Logan would give. He and James probably deserved it this time, though. Knocking out Logan wasn't exactly the planned use of the bat.

Logan mumbled something. He shifted slightly, yawning. "Mmph… Wh-Wha…?" He then attempted to lift his head, but only succeeded in a few inches before it slumped back down and landed heavily in Carlos's lap.

The Latino bit the inside of his cheek in thought. It would be nice of him to help Logan sit up… But then again, he valued his life.

Oh, what the heck. "Come on, Logie," Carlos murmured, slipping his hands underneath his friend's shoulders. He grunted in effort, guiding Logan into an upright position.

Logan tottered to the side, staying seated only because of Carlos's aid. He groaned and rubbed at his head, blinking blearily. "What… What happened?"

"James knocked you out."

"Carlos!" James scolded.

Eyes closed, Logan moaned again, grabbing onto Carlos's arm to keep himself from falling forward. He massaged his temple with his other hand. "Where are we?" His eyes suddenly snapped open, and he was wide awake. "The car. The car is moving. Why is the car moving?"

Carlos withdrew his hands and scooted as close to the window as possible.

"Were we caught? Are we—" Logan's eyes focused on the person in the driver's seat. He screamed.

"Logan, Logan, calm down!" James cried over his friend's shrieks. "This is exactly why I had to knock you out!"

"But don't worry, James is being a really responsible driver!" assured Carlos. It wasn't a total lie. James hadn't been in an accident or anything.

"Oh no oh no oh no," Logan chanted, panting hard.

Carlos flashed back to the beginning of their journey and Logan's reckless drive through town. The last thing they needed was to have Logan begin panicking again.

James must have been thinking the same thing. "Carlos, we have to distract him!"

Right! Carlos remembered Kendall creating a diversion for Logan one time when the guys had a sleepover. Logan had awoke in the middle of the night and had an anxiety attack, for whatever reason. Kendall told Logan to watch him, then proceeded to spontaneously dance and sing a Pussycat Dolls song until Logan's tears turned to laughter.

Carlos and James, of course, never let Kendall live it down.

But dancing was out of the question considering Carlos was sitting in a car. His brain whirled, desperately attempting to come up with a plan. Darn it, why was thinking so _hard_?

As Logan continued to shout incoherent sentences around his labored breaths, Carlos ultimately offered his mind's only solution. "OOOOUUGHHHARRGGH!" Animal noises were great distractions, right?

Carlos received the most strange look he had ever seen Logan make. From in the front, James laughed. "What was that?"

"I think it was an ostrich," replied Carlos. Logan was still rapidly sucking in air. "Quick, James! Make animal noises!" Carlos tossed his head back and let out a howl.

James joined in, proclaiming his imitation of a wildebeest. "RUARRGHHHH!"

Logan was mortified, so Carlos continued. "What sound does a beaver make?" he wondered. "CHUUUARRGGHHHAUGHAG?"

"No way," said James, "a beaver goes AUGHEEEKKK!"

"No, that's a koala. Beavers chew wood so it's like, AUGHAUGHUAHGH, but they also go, SQUEEEEEEEEEE—"

"You guys are so weird!" Logan screamed, interrupting the noise.

Carlos inwardly cheered. His plan was working; Logan's words were at least understandable now. He laughed. "Oh look! It's a wild Logan!"

"We've provoked it!" James cried, playing along. "Quick! Imitate a larger animal so we can scare him off!"

"I'm a whale!" shouted Carlos. "AUUUGUUUAAAHHHHH!"

"I'm an albatross! EEEHHUUAHAHAHEHEEEK!"

"I don't know what that is! But I'm a giraffe! BAAAAAAAHHHHHG!"

James rolled his eyes. "No, giraffes go WHEEEAUUGHHHH!"

"That's a donkey!"

Logan leaned between James and the empty passenger seat. "Will you please concentrate on the road? You both are being ridiculous—"

"SNEEEUUUKOOOUGH!" James wailed.

Carlos wrinkled his nose in confusion. "What kind of animal was that?"

"A unicorn! Duh!"

"Unicorns just sound like regular horses, like, NIIIEEEGGHHHHH, only they do it majestically."

"You mean like, NEIIIIGHHHHHHHHHHAHHHH?"

"No, more like, NEEEIIIIAAAAAGHHHHH!"

"NEIIIIIAUUGHH?"

"NIIEAAAAUUUGHHAUAGH?"

"NAAAAIIIGEEEUUGHH?"

"NIEEEEEEEEEE—?"

"OKAY THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH OR SO HELP ME I WILL SHOW THE WORLD THOSE PICTURES OF YOU GUYS AT JENNY TINKLER'S CHRISTMAS PARTY!"

Carlos and James immediately ceased their attempted unicorn noises and clamped their mouths shut. Because matters regarding Jenny Tinkler's Christmas party were not to be taken lightly. Logan only resorted to blackmail when his buttons had been pushed to the limit, and though his threats were normally empty, it wasn't worth the risk.

The interior of the vehicle fell into silence. James had slowed the car to a more reasonable speed and drove with white knuckles gripping the wheel. Carlos merely pursed his lips and twiddled his thumbs. His throat kind of hurt. But at least Logan was back to normal. Carlos only hoped he stayed that way.

"And just so you know," Logan added, "beavers sound like, EWAHAHUUUUUAH!"

* * *

Officer Nelson Riddell's steely eyes were fixed on the monitor before him, the brightly lit screen and the dimness of the room causing him to squint. The black and white bodies on tape did their actions in reverse and at a quick pace, some merely grey blurs. "Keep going," the officer instructed to Hal, the man in charge of monitoring Warrick Public Library's surveillance footage.

Hal gave a nod, keeping his beefy finger pressed to the rewind button on the large panel of switches. The time stamp on the bottom right-hand corner flew back seconds at a time. Skillful gaze leaving the monitor's for half a second, Riddell cast his attention to the second screen on the wall, catching a brief but thorough glimpse of Officer Laurie Stark waiting downstairs in the computer lab. She paced through the aisles with one hand resting protectively on her belt.

Riddell paid careful attention when the tape came on 1:15pm. He leaned on the back of Hal's chair, furrowing his brow and intently scanning every inch of the constantly changing image on screen, seeking three specific juveniles. "There," he said, pointing to the monitor. "Stop it." Hal obeyed, swiftly reaching for a different key. Riddell licked his lips, thinking. He hummed under his breath.

"Sir?" said Hal.

Riddell cleared his throat, gesturing to the three bodies. "Rewind to the point these kids enter."

Wordlessly, Hal obeyed, this time backing the tape at a slower speed. "Here we go," he said, hitting the play button.

Riddell watched keenly. Mitchell, Diamond and Garcia all entered the library, Mitchell leading the way. It had to be them. According to Mr. Baker, the boys had a scuffle in the parking lot before they reentered the bakery and asked for directions to the nearest library. Supposing they went straight to their assumed destination after getting in the car, it would be about quarter after one by the time they arrived. The three weren't clad in the same garments Mrs. Knight, Kendall's mom, had described them as wearing. But the hats were suspicious, seeing as each boy sported one.

They stood immobile for a moment, heads turning as they searched for something. Then, Mitchell pointed to the side. The boys started towards the computer lab.

Riddell sighed, unhooking his radio from his belt. He held in the side button, speaking to the officer downstairs. "Stark. They used the computer in the far east corner of the room."

"Got it," she replied.

Riddell stooped over Hal's shoulder, reaching for the fast-forward button on the panel in front of him. He clicked it once, watching as the boys seemingly conversed at the computer for a few moments, then exited the building. They were inside for a total of six minutes and forty-nine seconds.

"Thanks, Hal," Riddell murmured, hurrying for the exit. He barely registered Hal's "No problem," before he was pushing open the door to the surveillance room and hustling down the concrete stairs. His heavy footsteps echoed in the narrow stairwell, which was dingy and rather dirty compared to the rest of the library. When he made it to the ground floor, Riddell came to a corridor reserved for employees only. Picking up his pace, the burly man found the door that led to the main section of Warrick Public Library and took an immediate left to the computer lab.

Laurie was already bringing up the web history of the computer as Riddell arrived. "What do we got?" he asked, putting a hand on the back of her chair and inclining forward.

Her dark eyes scanned the webpage before her. "Looks like a few cooking websites, local news, online dictionary, articles about Italian Renaissance painters…" She trailed off, no doubt realizing it was not the information the two sought. Cocking her head slightly to the side as she often did in thought, Stark's hand found the mouse and clicked a few tabs. "Oh," she said. "Here we go. I can sort this by time accessed."

Riddell recited to his partner the times on the security tape, and she quickly skimmed down the list of websites that popped up. "Okay. In those six minutes, they brought up Google and MapQuest."

He pointed. "Try MapQuest."

Stark clicked the link. Almost instantly the page loaded, bringing up a map of the state of California. Like she'd done it before, the young brunette located a tiny arrow which brought out a dropdown menu from the site's search bar. "Search history shows the address 170Z Weylin Road. Says here it's in Redgrove."

"Hmm." Riddell drummed his fingertips on the counter, mind immediately making a connection. "That's strange. The address of Baker's Bakery is on a Weylin Road."

"170Z?" wondered Stark. "That's a weird address."

Riddell briefly closed his eyes, struggling to remember the building number. "Google it."

"What?"

"The bakery. The one in town. Find out the number."

She obediently opened a new tab and typed up the information. She highlighted the appropriate section of text with the cursor. "1702 Weylin Road."

Riddell straightened himself up, fumbling around in his pocket for his cell phone. "Then they're still looking for Kendall Knight. They must think he's in Redgrove."

"The wrong Weylin Road?" Stark guessed.

Riddell shrugged. "And twos can look a lot like Zs. What time is it?" He answered his own question when he revealed his phone and checked the screen. "They have a forty-five minute head start. We know where they're heading." He opened the phone and began to punch in a number. "We need to bring these kids home now before they hurt themselves or someone else."

"Wait," Stark said. Riddell ceased his movements and lowered his phone, turning back to the computer. "The address in Redgrove is a warehouse. Hasn't been in use for a few years now." She flipped around in her chair, facing the senior officer in full. "What if the boys were right? What if Knight is involved in something bigger than just wanting to leave town for a while?"

Riddell sighed and resumed his key punching before pressing the phone to his ear. "That's what we're going to find out," he replied. "Call Brown and Tobey, tell them to take an unmarked car and meet at the station in five minutes." He turned to leave, listening to the phone ring on the other line.

"And you?" Stark asked, closing out of the windows on the computer.

"I'm calling McNair to tell him where we're headed," Riddell responded, not looking back. As he stepped outside the library, his partner struggling to catch up, a deep voice answered his call.

"McNair, it's me," greeted Riddell. "We know where they are."

* * *

"Aw, come on, Logan. It couldn't have been as bad as the time your mom made you go to summer camp," Carlos said.

James had attempted to make a deer noise, which had Logan's cheeks flushing twenty shades of red in memory of being violated by said animal whilst on a camping trip. He didn't like to talk about it.

"Please don't bring that up," Logan muttered. He also disliked to reminisce about his summer camp experience. He crossed his arms, peering up at James to make sure the taller boy was handling the vehicle properly.

Carlos reached over and nudged Logan in the side. "Good thing I sent you a care package every week."

Logan stared at him. "All I recall getting from you was a pair of thermal underwear and a flashlight. And it didn't even have batteries."

"What good is a flashlight without batteries?" asked James with a chuckle.

"Well, I did use it to beat off a raccoon from some kid's leg, but still."

"See, it wasn't totally useless," said Carlos.

Silence in the vehicle. Carlos wasn't sure he liked sharing the backseat. Logan kept making faces at all the garbage on the floor, and even pointed out some mysterious droppings which Carlos thought were chocolate chips, but were actually left behind by the chipmunk. It was a good thing Carlos never tasted one to be sure.

Logan had isolated himself on the far right side of the seat, his seatbelt securely around his torso. His gaze was always on James, who was, surprisingly, driving decently. He had problems maintaining a steady speed, but Logan admitted even he had trouble in that department, so it was okay. Carlos was glad Logan seemed more chill about the whole thing. He was expecting to have to get out the duct tape again.

"Guys," James suddenly spoke up. "Let's say for a second that Kendall isn't here."

Everyone was well aware their destination was in the near distance. It was a matter of minutes before they approached Redgrove and located the warehouse. But the excitement in the car was reserved. Not even Carlos felt the urge to squirm and jiggle in his seat. His heart was thudding and his muscles were tense. The address seemed much more real than before, and he was apprehensive.

"What's with the sudden doubt?" Logan asked.

James shifted uneasily in his seat. "I'm just saying." He cleared his throat. "The only other thing this address could be is a place in another state we disregarded. What if Kendall's there instead? Or… What if the address is nothing at all?"

Carlos looked nervously to Logan. He didn't like it when James talked all negatively. It made his heart hurt.

Logan barely hesitated. "As long as you guys want to keep searching, I'll stick with you." His tone was gentle and kind, and from merely the sound of his voice Carlos could understand everything Logan was feeling. He smiled.

"Don't say that because you have to, Logan."

Carlos would have been discouraged by James's words, because he remembered what he had been told about Logan's reason for his sudden desire to continue the search. But Carlos knew how Logan was going to answer before the small boy even opened his mouth.

"I didn't." Logan paused. "Kendall is our best friend," he said. "We can't give up trying to find him, whether he wants us to or not. Any chance we have needs to be taken."

"But what about Mrs. Knight and Katie?" Carlos wondered as a sudden thought came to him. "And our own parents?"

"I think we're far past asking for permission," replied Logan. "Now we'll ask our families to forgive us."

"What if they don't?"

Logan looked at him. "I'm thinking Kendall's more important."

An abrupt surge of exhilaration made Carlos throw his hands in the air. "Whoo-hoo!" he cheered. "I love being a rebel!"

Logan and James both laughed.

It was coming on 3:30 PM by the time James turned into Redgrove. Carlos breathed deeply and evenly, gazing out the windows and absorbing every detail of the town. If Kendall was here, Carlos wanted to understand everything he could about this place. The town seemed kind of old and forgotten by the rest of the world. Most the shops on Main Street were closed or out of business. But welcome banners were strung high from streetlights and a group of kids on their bikes were riding on the sidewalk. It was a typical small town.

James drove slowly. Hardly any other cars were on the roads, so traffic definitely wasn't an issue. He took a left onto Heffron Drive and proceeded down the long stretch of pavement.

There were a few homes on the way. They were nice little houses, like something out of a magazine. And there were people outside. Two girls played fetch with a dog, a guy was mowing his lawn, and an elderly couple was sitting on a patio swing. There was nothing ominous about the town, nothing to suggest any wrongdoings lurking beyond closed doors.

But then James found Weylin Road, and the houses turned into shacks and gravel parking lots. There were abandoned sheds nestled in thickets of weeds, ramshackle structures with faded signs hanging by a single rusty screw. Machine parts and skeletons of projects never finished lay abandoned in a rocky patch of dirt. Carlos didn't like this section of town.

"Do you see it anywhere?" asked James, cruising leisurely. He turned his head both directions, searching for the warehouse.

"Keep going," said Logan. "There's more buildings up ahead."

The road was bringing them out of town. But instead of grassy fields and trees leading the way, the landscape was laid over with cracking pavement. There were plenty of large lots and corroded signs directing ways for trucks to enter, but every place was deserted. A row of large buildings spanned on either side of the road. James stopped the car.

To the left, structures showed off large doors with letters A, B, and C stenciled on the outside. On the right side of the road were buildings N, O, and P. Flipping his blinker on, James pulled towards the later option. His wheels hit the curb as he swung into the gravel lot, but he didn't seem to notice.

There was a problem. A tall, chainlink fence surrounded the storage units, and a large padlock was visible on the gate.

James cut the engine. "These buildings seemed a lot bigger in the picture."

"Yeah," Logan agreed, a little distractedly. Carlos could tell the gears in his brain were turning. The three boys stepped out of the car and closed their doors, but remained where they stood. The sky was growing cloudy now, and Carlos didn't like it one bit.

Logan pointed. "Building Z didn't look like this at all," he said, squinting in thought. "In the picture it was a big building with only one door. These buildings look the same length, but there's three doors. N, O, and P."

Logan was right. Carlos remembered one large door, not three separate ones. He scratched his head, frowning.

But then James had an idea. He walked up to the gate and curled his fingers around the chainlink. Carlos and Logan followed. "But there's an odd number of buildings," he pointed out. "The ones out front are N, O, and P. So behind them would be Q, R, and S. And behind that, T, U, and V."

"Then W, X, Y," continued Carlos.

"So where would Z be?" finished Logan.

A cool breeze blowing by disrupted the silence which had descended upon the group. Carlos looked up at the clouds and felt slightly nauseous. Something was wrong. Maybe it was the foreboding sense he got before a storm that was making his heart flutter nervously in his chest. He wasn't sure. But he wanted the feeling to go away.

James backed from the fence, placing his hands on his hips and gazing upwards.

Logan was skilled at reading minds. "We're climbing this thing, aren't we?"

"Yup." James tossed the car keys to Logan. "You better hang onto these."

Logan secured the keys in his pocket, then reached up and gripped a section of the fence. He pulled himself up and dug his toe into one of the openings. The fence rattled and shook loudly.

Then James hopped up, grunting as he began to scale the tall barrier. Carlos certainly didn't want to be left behind, so he climbed next to James and started his journey. Holding onto the little links of fence hurt his hands and fingers, and his shoes kept slipping from their grips, causing him to dangle helplessly for a few moments before James reached over with one hand and snatched a hold of Carlos's jacket. With his friend's boost, Carlos regained his footing and continued onward. His heart was nearly leaping out of his chest, and he had to force himself not to look down.

He always thought Logan was afraid of heights; he had been when they were younger. But Logan was the first to reach the top of the fence and swing his leg over the side, James not far behind. Carlos's legs were a little wobbly, but it wasn't like he was _scared_ or anything. He did dangerous stuff all the time, and had surely climbed things higher than a stupid fence.

When James was sitting next to Logan, he stuck out a hand and assisted Carlos on his final few inches. Carlos tried to sit like his friends, but tottered and nearly fell backwards. So, he laid down on his belly and hugged his arms around the metal pole spanning the top of the gate and waited for the guys to hurry up and go already.

Logan was pointing. "There," he said. "There's building Z."

James eyes widened, but Carlos couldn't see why. He tried to lift his head, nearly tipped over, then went back to squeezing the pole for dear life. But he wasn't afraid. He was perfectly safe, hanging on to this nice little pole. But, oh man, he forgot his helmet in the car. All he had protecting his head was his baseball cap, and that wouldn't do a thing to prevent a concussion.

"We better climb down," James said, peering over the edge.

"Definitely," replied Logan. "Be careful." Then he placed both hands on the pole and slowly lowered himself over the side of the jangling fence.

James did the same, so Carlos forced himself to follow. His arms were shaking (probably because he had used a lot of upper body strength pulling himself up, and no other reason) as he cautiously copied their actions. In no time he was descending with aching fingers and a foot cramp and a racing pulse and _man_, he really wanted someone to tell him he could _do this_. Or his helmet. Maybe both.

"J-James," Carlos said, weakly. He froze, knowing if he moved another inch his hands would betray him and he'd be plunging to his death. "J-James, can you h-help me?"

"You're fine, dude, just let go," said James's voice.

Carlos's eyes were closed tightly together. He shook his head back and fourth and clung tighter to the fence. "No way!"

"Carlos," said Logan, "you're like, three feet up. Let go."

Slowly, he opened an eye. James and Logan were on their feet, waiting with slightly amused expressions on their faces. "Oh." He sucked in a breath and released his hold. He landed with ease. "Well that wasn't so bad," Carlos said, rubbing the back of his neck.

James smirked and gave the Latino's shoulder an encouraging pat. "Let's go," he urged.

The three started off in a jog, making their way around the building marked with the letter P. Their shoes crunched loudly over the gravel. When the end of the building was reached, the boys noticed a large space between the two rows. It was obviously a place for trucks to go load up, but not one vehicle was in sight. So they continued on, passing the next group of buildings and then the next.

The last building was the same size as the others. But a single large door occupied the front, just like the picture on the computer. A black letter Z was barely visible against the white paint.

"Come on," said James, after a few moments of staring.

Carlos fiddled with the sleeve of his too-long shirt. He followed James and Logan to the front of the building, but the closer he advanced, the heavier his feet seemed to be. Scraggly weeds poked up along the edge of the structure, and various crates and old boards laid carelessly against the side.

James located a normal sized door beside the one used for trucks. He tried the knob, but found it locked.

"Should we knock?" wondered Carlos.

"No," answered Logan. "Not yet." He suspiciously eyed a keypad mounted to the wall.

"Let's go around," James suggested. "Maybe there's another door on the other side."

No one disagreed, so the three began the brisk walk to the opposite end of building Z. Carlos examined everything carefully, like the grime coating the peeling grey paint and the debris littering the surrounding area. He knew they were trespassing, and while that normally wouldn't bother him, today it did. And he wasn't sure why.

They rounded the corner. James immediately brightened and gestured upwards. "Windows!"

Sure enough, a row of small windows were high above, just waiting to be peered through. James stepped up on an upside down crate and jumped. He sighed in frustration. "Carlos, come here. Get on my shoulders."

Carlos did as instructed, awkwardly climbing atop his friend while James squatted down. He was wary not to touch James's hair as he slipped his legs over James's shoulders. When the tall boy stood erect, Carlos was perfectly eyelevel with the windows.

"What do you see?" Logan asked eagerly.

Carlos exhaled a layer of fog over the glass. He wiped his jacket sleeve over the film of dirt covering the outside, then cupped his hands around his eyes and leaned forward.

He nearly choked on his heart when it jumped to his throat. "It's Kendall!" he shrieked, grinning ear to ear.

Below, James nearly let his knees buckle. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah! I see him!" Carlos exclaimed.

"Well what's he doing?" Logan demanded to know.

Carlos squinted. Kendall was sitting in a chair in front of some door. His hands were behind his back, and… And he didn't _look_ like Kendall. This Kendall was all tense, and his hair had a wet look to it. He appeared worn, tired, alert and… _scared_.

"He's just sitting in a chair," reported Carlos. But then he looked more closely. There were three men in the room, two standing to the side—a big guy and a skinny guy—and another more normally-built man pacing the floor in front of Kendall. His mouth was moving, like he was talking, and he was twirling something shiny in his hand. "And there's some weird guys talking to him."

Despite the strangers and the unusual appearance of his friend, Carlos nearly laughed in relief. He tapped on the glass. "HEY KENDALL!"

James cried out, and suddenly Carlos was falling backwards and soaring through the air. He screamed and braced himself before he landed hard on the ground. He groaned, and rubbed his helmet-less head.

"Carlos!" Logan scolded. "You can't just yell at Kendall like that!"

Carlos and James scrambled to their feet, taking no time to brush dirt from their clothes or comprehend any bruise now on their bodies. "Why not?" asked Carlos.

"What if those weird guys are bad guys?" said James, stooping over to allow Carlos to climb up yet again. "Who are they? Do you recognize them?" He was talking quickly, and it was making Carlos uneasy.

As Carlos was lifted into the air once more, he caught sight of Logan wringing his hands together. Making sure to stay quiet, the Latino pressed his face against the window a second time. "No, I don't know who they are."

"Now what do you see?" James asked hastily. "Is Kendall okay?"

"I can't tell," said Carlos. "But there's only two guys in the room now." The big guy was gone. But the one in front of Kendall had ceased his pacing, and was now inclining forward. Kendall moved his head away when the man got right in his face. Then, the guy raised a hand. As he did so, the thing in his hand caught the light and winked. His hand hovered near Kendall's arm.

Carlos was a little afraid now. He didn't like this guy. Something wasn't right, not right at all. He held his breath as the man said something over his shoulder to the skinny guy standing out of the way. Skinny nodded, then disappeared behind the door.

The moment Skinny exited the room, the man in front of Kendall slowly traced his hand along Kendall's arm. Kendall thrashed and writhed against the touch, the legs of his chair nearly jolting off the ground. But the man persisted, using his other arm to restrain Kendall.

Carlos felt tears leap to his eyes. "I think they're hurting him!" he cried. He wanted to look away, but was compelled to keep his eyes open.

"What?" shrieked Logan. "What do you mean? Is he kidnapped or something?"

"I-I don't know! But I think one of the guys has a knife!" It took every once of willpower he possessed not to punch through the window and come to the rescue. He wanted to cry. Had Kendall been enduring this the entire time he was gone? And _why_?

"We gotta get help," James breathed, winded from holding Carlos up. "Logan, go back to the car and get your phone. Call 911. Oh, and get the bat."

"Yeah, okay—" replied Logan. He stopped his sentence abruptly. Carlos almost looked down to see why, but was entranced by the sight of Kendall. The blond had tossed his head back and gritted his teeth as the man stepped away from him.

"Carlos," said James.

The Latino ignored him. The man said something to Kendall again, but Kendall kept quiet. His head finally rolled forward and sagged down. He looked defeated.

"C-Carlos," James said again, his voice wavering.

Carlos could tear his gaze away. The door from which Skinny left opened wide. A very familiar person stepped through, followed by Skinny himself, who was pointing a pistol at the person's back. Carlos gasped in disbelief. "Oh, man, James! You won't _believe _who just came in!"

"_Carlos_!" James cried.

"Gustavo's here—" Carlos started, turning. He froze. Logan stood on trembling knees, both hands raised. In front of him was the big guy Carlos had seen earlier. And he was holding a gun.

"Why don't you three come with me?"

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**A/N: ...And this is that halfway point I mentioned earlier. After this, the story is going to kinda change its tone. There's going to be a lot more violence, a lot more angst, and a lot less humorous moments. Prepare yourselves.  
Hate me for cliffhangers? Bwahaha.**


	15. Smashed to Pieces

**A/N: So, wow. It's been a while since the last update, huh? This chapter was a challenge to write. Hopefully it came out okay. I didn't plan to end it here, but I'm hoping by doing so it will help my current lack of inspiration. Please review and tell me what you think! Also, you guys would really be helping me out if you voted on the poll on my profile. Thank you! Sorry again for the lateness of the update.**

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Chapter 15  
Smashed to Pieces

Kendall knew it was the end.

The third man his captors had spoken of finally arrived: Chris. He had entered from the mysterious door with a knife gleaming threateningly in his hand, and Kendall was certain his life would be taken by the five inch blade. But he was ready. It was okay. He had no idea what Chris wanted with him, but as long as his friends were unharmed, Kendall could care less about his fate.

Right? Right.

But he was curious, and there was an almost painful anxiousness churning inside him. He didn't want to die without knowing the reason why it had to be. Then again, he loathed the mere thought of speaking to Chris—the fair-haired, steel-eyed monster who was apparently the ringleader of the twisted operation. Kendall looked at the man and felt nothing but ardent contempt.

He thought he had hated people before. Like Jett Stetson, WayneWayne, Hawk, and maybe a few people back in Minnesota. But Chris topped them all. And the man had yet to open his mouth.

Jace and Rodney stood rigidly to the side, both leaning against the wall. Rodney was mostly expressionless and passive, but Jace had an arrogant smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth, and it made Kendall's blood boil.

Chris stared at him. Examined Kendall's every feature with his cold eyes, noticeably squeezing the knife in his hand a little tighter. Kendall tensed and reminded himself it was okay. It was okay, it was okay, it was okay. But what would dying feel like? Would it hurt? Be slow and painful, or quick and easy?

No. It didn't matter. Everything would be okay. James, Carlos and Logan were safe. Kendall had protected them.

It was okay.

"Looks like Jace has been treating you nicely," said Chris, almost amusedly. When he stooped over Kendall, the boy in the chair felt reduced to nothing. The man wasn't much taller than Kendall himself, but he stood like a dark, looming tower. Kendall forced himself to meet Chris's harsh glare and look on with unblinking eyes.

"You tired?" Chris asked. His voice was smooth and slick. Kendall hated it. "You don't look so good."

The man advanced towards Kendall, who braced himself, finally dropping his gaze to the knife in Chris's grip. But Chris didn't reach out with his right hand. He stuck out his left and leaned forward, pushing some matted blond hair away from Kendall's forehead.

Kendall couldn't help it, and he jerked his head to the side in attempts to slip away from the unnerving touch. Chris's fingers were cold and clammy; serpent-like.

Chris backed off, humming under his breath. Then he chuckled haughtily. Kendall began to tremble. "So, you're Kendall, huh? From Big Time Rush."

Chris paused, as if expecting Kendall to answer. When he received no response, he licked his lips and twirled the knife in his hand. Kendall watched it closely—watched the tool that would be used to end his life. Maybe it would be sliced across his throat. Or maybe it would be plunged deep into his heart. Either way, it didn't matter. Everything was okay.

"Let me ask you something." Chris paced back and fourth in front of Kendall's chair. "Do you like your boss?"

His boss? Gustavo? What kind of question was that?

Even if Kendall wanted to answer, he wouldn't have been able to form a proper sentence. At that moment his mind spun so rapidly he felt faint. Gustavo. _Gustavo_? Was the producer in danger? Involved somehow in what was happening?

The confused expression on Kendall's face must have shown. "Do you get along?" Chris pressed. "He treat you okay?"

Suddenly, a strange noise invaded Kendall's ears. He held his breath. It almost sounded like a voice calling his name, but he shrugged it off, figuring it was his weary imagination playing tricks on him.

But all three men in the room whipped their heads to the side. Kendall perked up, listening harder with sudden interest. Chris nodded towards Rodney. The big guy revealed a pistol Kendall didn't know he had, then proceeded to cross the room to presumably investigate the sound.

Chris wasted no time continuing his interrogation. Kendall involuntarily shuddered as the man inclined forward once more. He moved his head away, praying the freak wouldn't touch him again.

"Let me tell you something," hissed Chris. He had changed. His cold eyes lit with a fire, and his breathing was erratic. He spoke in a harsh whisper, bringing his face just inches from Kendall's. "Gustavo Rocque is a bastard. A fat, rich bastard. And he would be a _nobody_ without me."

Kendall winced at Chris's sour breath. His mind was desperately trying to grasp what he was hearing. Chris and Gustavo knew each other? Who _was_ this guy?

Chris slowly raised a hand. Shadows danced around his face, over his lips, his eyes, darkened his hair. He was a phantom—some sort of malevolent apparition, haunting Kendall. The silver blade caught a ray of sun shining from the windows and flashed in warning for what was about to come.

"Jace," Chris ordered. "Bring him out."

Kendall's stomach did a flip-flop.

Jace wordlessly exited through the door. It clicked shut, the sound echoing through the room. Kendall only focused on the knife. His lungs could hardly keep up with the pace of his pulse. Already he felt the sting of the blade puncturing his skin.

But it was okay. It had to be okay.

Chris placed the tip of the knife against the fabric of Kendall's shirt, starting at the top of his left shoulder. Without hesitation, Chris gritted his teeth and dragged his hand down to the bend in Kendall's arm. He pressed hard, the blade slicing open the heated flesh.

A strangled scream tore from Kendall's throat. He thrashed and wiggled his body left and right, desperate to throw the man away from him. "Stop, stop!" he cried, squeezing his eyes closed.

And just like that, the weapon was removed. Chris stepped back to admire his work, wiping the flat of his blade on the thigh of his jeans to clean the blood away.

Kendall panted hard, letting his head drop forward in exhaustion. Hot, sticky blood oozed down his arm and dripped from the tips of his swollen fingers. The cut throbbed in synch with his heartbeat. He wish he'd paid more attention in health class so he knew the location of all his major pipes. Bleeding his body dry wasn't exactly how he expected to go.

Kendall could feel Chris's piercing stare as he struggled to properly suck in oxygen. His arm twitched in pain. He was focusing so intently on biting his lip to take focus away from the wound that he failed to hear the door in front of him reopen.

"Kendall."

His head immediately snapped up. Even when he saw who had spoken his name, he didn't believe it.

Kendall barely choked the words out. "Gustavo."

Jace held a gun to the large man's back and secured a fistful of Gustavo's sweatshirt. Kendall's boss appeared sincerely frightened, a look Kendall had never seen on the man's face. Gustavo's eyes were free of his usual tinted shades, and bruises dappled various sections of exposed skin. "Kendall," he spoke breathlessly, desperately. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Kendall wrinkled his brow. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, speechless. His astonishment prevented him from noticing that Chris's lips were brushing against his ear. "See, I have what I want. I don't need you anymore."

Kendall shivered.

"Don't," Gustavo said, quickly. This time he spoke in the loud, booming voice Kendall was familiar with. "Let him go. He hasn't done anything."

"Gustavo, what's going on?" Kendall asked. His voice cracked and squeaked from a mixture of disuse and fright. Then again, a small part of him was almost relieved to see a well-known face, especially considering he had come to terms with the fact he'd never talk with his friends again.

"Don't answer him," Chris barked at the producer. "You'll just waste your breath." Then he spoke to Jace with a nod towards Kendall. "We don't need blondie anymore. Get rid of him."

Without pause, the gun was removed from Gustavo's back. Jace raised the weapon. Cocked it.

Kendall closed his eyes and bowed his head, shuddering in terror. It was okay, it was okay, it was okay.

But, darn it, it _wasn't _okay.

"Leave him alone, Chris!" shouted Gustavo. "You said you'd let him go if I came with you! So back off!"

Chris laughed. "Yeah, I lied."

Kendall realized he was shaking. The blood dampening his shirt sleeve and rolling down his arm tickled as it fell. He waited for the bullet, heart hammering loudly in his ears. His mind raced. Images of his mom, his sister, even his father danced before his closed eyes. He saw James, Carlos and Logan, Jo, Camille, and other kids from the Palm Woods. He saw his friends in Minnesota, his relatives back home. They were laughing, smiling at him like nothing was wrong. And it was beautiful.

_Bang_.

Dead. He was dead, dead, dead. The bullet was lodged somewhere in his skull and he was dead.

Only… he wasn't.

Kendall opened his eyes. Jace still had the gun raised, but he, Chris, and Gustavo had their eyes trained on something over Kendall's shoulder.

As his bearings came back to him, Kendall comprehended the source of the noise. It had come from behind him—a door opening, forcefully. Rodney. It had to have been Rodney returning.

Kendall strained his ears to listen. A collection of footsteps shuffled inside, the rustle of fabric indicative of multiple bodies. Unable to turn his head, Kendall scrutinized the facial expressions of the men before him. Chris and Jace had their eyes narrowed into slits; Gustavo was horrified.

"Dogs?" Kendall's boss said.

The blond's heart skipped a beat. His world stopped.

No.

No, no, please. This couldn't be happening. They had a deal. Kendall goes with Jace and Rodney, his friends remain unharmed. Simple as that.

His head pounded like a drum as his brain attempted to absorb the information he was being given. It was too much to take. Kendall broke out into a hot sweat, fighting off panic. He needed to turn around, needed to see for himself…

"Kendall!"

Oh no. He recognized the voice immediately. "James."

The footsteps started up again, small and clumsy. Four figures came into his peripheral vision. Carlos, Logan, and James, all three with their hands raised in surrender. Rodney was behind, prodding them with a pistol.

"Look what I found outside," he said.

"Guys," Kendall breathed. And suddenly he felt like the biggest fool in the world. He should have known better than to trust two scumbags like Rodney and Jace. His eyes raked over every inch of his friends' quivering bodies. Each stood shoulder-to-shoulder with wide eyes and gasping mouths. He couldn't stand to see them like that.

"No," murmured Kendall. He whipped his head to Chris and Jace. "No!" he roared. "You said you wouldn't hurt them! Let them go _right now_!"

"Kendall," whimpered Logan. He tried to step forward, but James grabbed the collar of his shirt.

"This wasn't apart of the deal!" Kendall continued to shriek. His throat burned from lack of water, causing his voice to bounce in its pitch.

"Shut up!" Jace bellowed, raising his gun a second time.

Kendall ignored it. "No! No, you let them go! You said you wouldn't hurt them! I've cooperated, I've sat here in this _stupid chair _for days, I've listened to you run your worthless mouth! You _let them go_!"

"I said shut _up_!"

Kendall was livid. Blood gushed from his wound. He tugged at the ropes restraining his wrists, chair nearly toppling over in his efforts. He turned to shout at Rodney. "Put the gun down! Don't point it at them, you—" A sharp backhand cut Kendall off. His head twisted to the side, Jace's hand reopening his split lip.

"No! Kendall!" Carlos screamed. Then he cried out again, this time more deeply, from the back of his throat. "Leave him alone!"

Kendall's ears were instantly assaulted with shouts from James and Logan and Gustavo, pleading for Carlos to stop. Jace and Chris warned the Latino to keep back. But Carlos charged forward. Kendall could see the determination on his friend's face as he threw himself at the shorter man.

"No, stop! Don't hurt him!" Kendall cried at Jace, watching helplessly as the man brought up a fist to fend off Carlos. Voices, screams and hollers echoed off the walls, filling the large room with noise. Carlos grunted and readied himself to land a hard kick to Jace's knee, but he never got the chance. The skinny man anticipated the Latino's move and swiped his hand upwards—the hand grasping the gun.

"_No_!" shrieked Kendall. It was no use.

Jace brought the butt of the weapon down. It connected with Carlos's head with a sickening _whack_. There were more cries from James and Logan as Carlos crumpled to the ground, hands racing to cradle his skull.

"Stop it!" pleaded Kendall, eyes stinging. "Leave him alone! _Stop it_!"

Three unmistakable sounds boomed through the air.

Kendall jumped; James and Logan screamed. Then, every noise ceased.

Chris had somehow obtained a gun, and he lowered it as the remaining echoes fizzled out of the room. "Everyone shut up!" he ordered. "The next person to say a thing is getting my fourth round in their head."

Kendall swallowed. He did his best to keep quiet, but he was panting so wildly with fear that occasional whimpers escaped his mouth. He stared at his fallen friend, watching sorrowfully as Carlos gripped his head and writhed on the ground with eyes screwed shut.

"_Aaaaah_," Carlos moaned in pain. He rolled over on his side, then back again, gasping. It was the only thing disrupting the silence.

Please, please be quiet, Carlos. Don't say another word. Don't move. Please.

Kendall's eyes flicked nervously to Chris. His gun was still pointing upwards where he had fired. His shoulders heaved, and he rubbed a hand over his face in obvious distress. At least he seemed to be disregarding Carlos.

Beside him, Gustavo stood stiffly and looked down with remorse.

"You." Chris jabbed the barrel of the gun at Gustavo. "You're coming with me. Jace, get this under control."

"You want me to get rid of them?"

Chris looked to each member of Big Time Rush. "No. No, not yet. We have the whole band now. We might be able to use them."

Jace angrily marched up to his boss, eyes flashing. "This wasn't apart of the plan."

"It is now. So shut the hell up and do what you're told."

The two men locked stares for a moment. Kendall could see Jace's jaw clench and unclench as he thought. The tension in the air was practically palpable. The only noise was Carlos's groans.

They finally broke away from each other. With a rough shove, Gustavo was led through the door, Chris following. Kendall opened his mouth to protest, but no sound emerged. The door closed. They were gone.

"Get the rope," Jace growled to Rodney, who still had his weapon trained on James and Logan.

Kendall felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't watch. He couldn't bear to see his friends in imminent danger when he was completely powerless and unable to defend them. But his eyes betrayed him and remained open, carefully observing every movement made.

Rodney placed one big hand on James's back and pushed, commanding him to walk. James stumbled and collided into Logan; both boys held onto each other to prevent crashing to the concrete floor.

Kendall seethed.

They were led beside Kendall's chair and instructed to get on the ground. James did as he was told, first kneeling before deciding to sit cross-legged. He lowered himself on trembling legs, sneaking a glance at Kendall. Logan also dropped to the floor, but his concentration was elsewhere.

"Hey," barked Rodney, his loud voice making Kendall jump a second time.

Logan ignored the warning and scrambled on his hands and knees, crawling over to Carlos still squirming on the ground. Rodney ultimately let them be and went about his task of squatting behind James and digging rope from his back pocket, though he did seem to keep alert.

The future doctor kneeled beside Carlos, grabbing his shoulders and helping him sit upright. "You okay? Carlos." Logan patted his cheek. "Carlos, can you hear me?"

Carlos let out a moan as his head lolled to the side. He weakly curled his fingers around the fabric of Logan's shirt. "M-my head hurts…," he slurred.

Kendall nearly vomited. He watched in horror as Logan gently tilted Carlos's head, examining the injury. Lines of blood dripped from his dark hair and rolled down the side of his neck.

"We… We gotta find Ken'all," murmured Carlos, attempting to straighten his posture. Logan's eyes shone wetly. He strengthened his grip on his friend to keep Carlos steady.

Kendall was so transfixed that he failed to notice Jace move from his post by the door. The skinny man stomped up to Logan and Carlos with a snarl, obviously not pleased by the show of emotion.

"Get off!" grunted Logan as his forearm was seized. Jace yanked Logan away from Carlos like Logan was weightless.

James gasped in alarm as the small boy was dragged across the floor.

"Stop it! Don't touch me!" shouted Logan through gritted teeth. He brought his free arm back and grabbed for Carlos, but to no avail.

Jace muttered a curse as he continued to tug on Logan. He finally released the teen with a violent push. Logan toppled sideways and collided into the legs of Kendall's chair, snapping the blond back to reality.

Stupid in his distress, Kendall watched silently as Rodney snatched Logan by the arm and forced him into a sitting position. Logan glowered but didn't fight as the restraints were fastened around his wrists. Meanwhile, Jace had stomped back to Carlos and put him through the same mistreatment. The dazed Latino was dragged beside James on the end of the line. Unable to sit without aid, Carlos slumped against James's side, head resting against the taller boy's shoulder.

And suddenly, Kendall couldn't breathe. Because this all had to be a dream, right? None of this was actually happening. James and Carlos and Logan were all safe at home. Kendall was the only one in the warehouse, the only one in danger.

His lungs screamed for oxygen, but his brain was too stupefied to command himself to suck in air. His mouth opened and closed in his desperate attempts to inhale.

But the harder Kendall fought, the more panicked he became. But how stupid would it be to pass out when his friends were in danger? He had to stay awake. Had to stay alert.

It seemed he no longer could control anything. Gustavo often referred to Kendall as the leader of Big Time Rush. Though he wasn't too sure about that, Kendall did know his friends usually listened to him. He was strong. He was composed and level-headed, when he wanted to be. Controlled.

But that was gone now. For the first time in his life, Kendall's confidence was smashed to pieces. His optimism, his hope, his rationality—gone. Because if he couldn't protect his friends like he promised himself he always would, what good was he?

Black spots danced in his vision for only a moment before they consumed him completely.


	16. Invincible

**A/N: I'm so sorry I forgot to mention the warnings last chapter! Don't worry, I'll remember this time. :) Thank you so much to everyone reading and reviewing! As always, I really appreciate it. I managed to get this chapter finished with the help of Mizz Nikki, who was my beta. Awesome, right? :D**

**Warnings: Angst, references to violence.**

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Chapter 16  
Invincible

He awoke to a blithe humming.

Each time Kendall came to he was hit with a jolt of blissful relief. For a split second, just as he was coming out of unconsciousness and back into reality—before he even opened his eyes—he swore he could smell breakfast cooking. And he would sigh and be thankful his horrible experience was just a nightmare.

But, of course, it was just his imagination. He wouldn't be enjoying a meal anytime soon. He wouldn't be sitting around the table with Carlos, James, Logan and Katie in apartment 2J. His mother wouldn't be patting his head and asking him if he slept well.

Slowly Kendall cracked open his heavy eyes. He blinked hard, trying to clear away the salty sting of sweat. For several moments he saw a jumbled mess of dreary colors and shapes, but as he blinked a second time the world came back into focus.

He could still hear the song. A light, carefree tune interrupting the monotone ring in his ears. At first he thought it was all a trick of his mind. But as he paused and listened, he realized it was coming from somewhere to his right. It was kind of nice.

Kendall's vision continued flashing fuzzy dots as he lifted his throbbing head. He was forced to swallow back a mouthful of bile before he attempted to shift positions. The deep ache rooted into his bones seemed more intense than ever.

His bearings came back to him in a sudden rush. He knew he was in the warehouse. He knew his friends were in danger.

Someone kept humming.

His neck clicked and popped as he turned his head to the side. Through the blurry obstructions still clouding Kendall's vision, he managed to make out the forms of three bodies. Beside Kendall's chair, Logan was laying on his side, positioned with his head behind James, for whatever reason. The taller boy sat on his bottom, Carlos leaning against him for support. All three had their ankles bound and wrists tied firmly behind their backs.

"Guys," Kendall tried to say. But his sandpapery throat wasn't able to vocalize a sound louder than a raspy whisper. He swiped his tongue across his lips and prepared to try again. Luckily, he must have been understood the first time.

"Kendall?" It was Logan. "Kendall, you're awake." He breathed the last sentence in relief.

"Are you okay?" James demanded to know.

Hearing his friend's voices was somewhat of a relief. Craning his neck as much as his body would allow, Kendall aimed to peer over at Carlos. It was then he realized the Latino was the one responsible for the random song. Carlos rocked his body slightly to the melody of his own tune, seemingly oblivious to fact his face was buried in James's shoulder.

Kendall ignored James's question to get to one of more importance. "Did they… Did they hurt you guys?"

"Other than Carlos, no. We're fine," Logan replied. He turned his head and spat to the side.

"Logan, let me talk," said James. "You keep working."

Logan muttered something, then went back to positioning his face near James's wrists.

"Dude, who were those guys? And what did they do to you? Are you okay? And why was Gustavo here?"

James's questions hurt Kendall's head. Not to mention his throat burned just thinking about the strain of vocalizing a response. The last thing he wanted to do was have a conversation.

Kendall sighed. His brain pounded with confusion. Something didn't make sense. His captors informed him that his friends would remain unharmed if Kendall complied and got in the car with them. What was the point of bringing Kendall to the warehouse separately, only to have the rest of Big Time Rush kidnapped later? And what about Gustavo? Had he been taken, too? Did Jace, Rodney and Chris have anyone else? Did they—

The most terrifying thought yet occurred to Kendall. "You guys," he started, snapping alert. "Mom and Katie. Are they…?" His voice sort of died in his throat, but he didn't want to clear it in fear of the pain it would cause.

James didn't look up. "Mrs. Knight and Katie are at home." Then he added almost wistfully, "They're probably freaked…"

"Mmm, this's a great song," Carlos cut in with a goofy grin. "We should, uh… Hey, guys… Where's this comin' from? We can't, um, we can't turn it off."

"Because you're humming it, Carlos," James said, patiently.

"Oh." Carlos lifted his head and gazed around the large room. "I don't feel good." His humming finally ceased, replaced now by small moans of discomfort.

"We know, Carlos, just hang on," Logan said after a sputter.

James shifted slightly where he sat. "Gross, Logan," he groused. "You're drooling all over me. Less spit would be great, thanks."

"Well excuse me for having an escape plan. Do you want to gnaw off your own ropes? Yeah, I didn't think so." He turned his attention to Kendall before getting back to work at pulling James's restraints with his teeth. "Kendall, seriously. What's going on?"

Leave it to Logan to think of chewing off the ropes. It was a good idea. If Logan could get James's hands free, James could untie the others and they could make it to the back door, get outside and flag down a car, find a police officer, do _something_…

But if Rodney, Jace or Chris walked in, they'd see Logan laying on his side and realize what he was doing. In the past, one of the men came in to check on Kendall every hour or so. "H-how…," Kendall tried to say, struggling with making his voice loud enough to be heard. "How long was I out?"

"Um," James pondered. "Maybe ten minutes or so? Not very long." He paused, then said earnestly, "Kendall. Please, man. What's happening?"

"Why'd you leave us?" Carlos slurred.

Silence.

The questions were overwhelming. Kendall squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Part of him wanted to be relieved; grateful he had his friends by his side—people to talk to, people to renew his hope and give him the strength to keep fighting. But another part of Kendall was terrified and guilt-ridden. He wasn't sure if it was truly his fault his friends were currently beside him, but it sure felt like it.

He had to know everything. What had happened to Carlos, James and Logan. How they got to be in this situation. If they really were alright, or if they were just lying. Because Kendall knew he himself was going to continue pretending he was okay for the sake of his friends. They were calm. Apparently they had been left alone in the room for only ten minutes while Kendall was unconscious, and already Logan—the band member who didn't know the meaning of taking risks—had devised a plan to escape. Which, Kendall now deduced, was a good thing. Before, he had no desire to escape. He couldn't risk one of his friends getting hurt, which was exactly what his captors had threatened to do if Kendall made a break for it. Now, though, things were different. He had his three friends by his side. They could get out together, and stay together. The only concern was Mrs. Knight and Katie back home, but neither Chris, Rodney or Jace had mentioned them in the past. Whatever was happening didn't seem to involve Kendall's family.

Kendall shifted a bit in his seat, hoping to conceal the fact his body was trembling. He had been shaking fearfully since he awoke, and praying the guys didn't notice. It was the last thing he needed. Maybe they were calm because of him; because Kendall wasn't crying or whining about how much pain he was in or how terrified he was. He couldn't falter now.

He looked to his side and saw that James was offering a sorrowful stare. Logan had momentarily halted his chewing, looking up with equally glassy eyes that were shining with what might have been betrayal.

So they didn't know. They were still under the impression that Kendall had run away and abandoned them all because he felt like it. Not that Kendall blamed them. After all, that's what it had been meant to look like. Probably to avoid police. The LAPD wouldn't care too much about a runaway kid.

"Listen to me," Kendall said. His attempts to make his voice strong and even didn't work too well. "I didn't leave you. I promise I-I didn't. I didn't mean t-to hurt you guys. Okay? I didn't just _leave_."

"Why are you here, then?" Logan murmured, sounding suddenly choked up.

James wiggled his fingers, and Logan sniffled and took the hint to get back to gnawing the ropes.

The room was suddenly ten times hotter. Beads of sweat damped Kendall's neck and forehead, irritating his wounds. He inhaled deeply, figuring if he hurried up and told his side of the story, his friends could tell theirs.

"Remember when we went to Fun Burger?" he asked them. "Remember how you guys thought I was sick on the walk home?"

Logan mumbled a 'yes.' James nodded. Carlos giggled.

"Well, I wasn't sick. These two guys cornered me in the bathroom. Had a gun on me. They gave me an envelope and told me not to open it until I got home. They said they'd be watching me… and if I told anyone about it or tried to get help or something, they'd…"

"Kill you?" James guessed.

Kendall weakly shook his head. "Not me. You."

"What! Kill _us_?" Logan squeaked. "What did we ever do? Why would someone want to kill us?"

"Are you serious? You mean like actually _kill u_s?" asked James.

"Yes," Kendall snapped. "So what was I supposed to do, huh?" His eyes burned, and he sighed again to calm his irritation. "So when we got home, and after I went to my room and stuff, I opened the envelope. There were pictures inside, of us—me and you guys. Like those guys at Fun Burger had been stalking us, or something. And there was a letter that said I had to be in front of the Palm Woods at midnight, or else someone would be… you know."

"Killed," James finished grimly.

"Yeah," Kendall whispered. His stomach rumbled with hunger, but he coughed to cover it up. It was a weak, dry cough. He needed water.

The room once again fell into a heavy quietness. Kendall allowed his friends a moment to comprehend what they were hearing. He had to be certain they understood that he didn't just take off and run away from home. They had to know why he left.

"Look. If they would have threatened me, I wouldn't have gone. But they threatened _you guys_. And I wasn't going to risk anything—"

Kendall was cut off by Carlos. The Latino's body gave a violent lurch. Kendall cringed at the wet noise of vomit splashing onto the cement. Fortunately, Carlos had managed to turn his head and empty the contents of his stomach away from everyone else. It didn't stop James from grimacing.

When he was done, Carlos groaned and stared at the mess he made. "I don't feel good."

"Obviously," said Logan, lifting his head. Then his tone became more gentle. "Just hang on, okay? We'll get out of here soon and we'll take you to a doctor to get your head looked at."

"If Logan hurries up, anyway. How long does it take to chew through some string?" James wondered impatiently.

"Hey, this stuff is thicker than it looks. And it's hard to know where to bite. I don't want to take one of your fingers off."

"You've drooled on them enough."

"What do you expect? My mouth is—"

"Guys," Kendall interrupted, angrily. "Shut up."

How could they quarrel like that? How could they act like nothing was wrong? Carlos was hurt. Everyone was in danger. At any moment one of the men could come in with a gun and start executing. How could James and Logan possibly take the situation so lightly?

And then it dawned upon him.

The guys weren't calm and unconcerned because Kendall was acting unafraid. They were calm because they didn't understand the severity of what was happening. They were under the impression that the situation could be solved like their problems on the playground. They could beat up the bully and everything would be okay again.

This wasn't the schoolyard. Chris and Jace and Rodney weren't upperclassman picking on the weaker kids. They were monsters with guns and knives, ready to kill at the next sign of trouble. And as much as Kendall sometimes liked to believe it, he and his friends weren't invincible.

Kendall set his jaw, seething in the silence that had once again filled the stuffy room. He almost opened his mouth to start shouting some sense into the three. But he stopped. Maybe it was best if Carlos, James and Logan _didn't _understand. Maybe it was best that Kendall didn't explain to them how Jace had beat him mercilessly, how each man carried a gun, how Kendall had been a second away from death before the remaining members of Big Time Rush had entered. Maybe it was best he didn't remind them of how Jace had given Carlos a concussion, how Chris had fired three shots in the air to get the chaos in the room to stop, how Rodney tied them all up and dragged them across the floor.

"My ears hurt," remarked Carlos. He rubbed the side of his head over James's shoulder, no doubt seeking relief from the irritation. "Am I bleeding?"

"No," murmured James. Then he refocused on Kendall. "So, those guys… Why do they have Gustavo? Has he been here the whole time?"

"No," Kendall answered stonily. "I don't think so. Chris—the blonde guy—said he got what he wanted and didn't need me anymore, and that was right before he brought Gustavo into the room. And Gustavo was yelling at him, saying something about how Chris promised not to hurt me if Gustavo went with him, or something…"

"So you think these guys did the same thing to Gustavo that they did to you?" said Logan. "You think they sent him a letter and everything? The bad guys told Gustavo to make it look like he was just going out of town for a while, and in exchange Chris wouldn't hurt you?"

"Yeah," Kendall said. "Plus, one of the others guys, Jace, took my picture when I first got here. I'm sure it was proof to show Gustavo that they had me."

"So they used you to get to Gustavo," Logan confirmed.

"That's my best guess. But I have no idea what they want with him." Kendall began to pant, the pain of working his parched throat finally becoming too much. It was his friends' turn to talk. "Now tell me how you guys got here. And _where _is Carlos's helmet?"

Kendall was also curious about his friends' unusual attire. James looked like an abnormally tall middle school student with his gray and blue striped sweater and backwards baseball cap. Carlos wore a red plaid shirt, the tail falling to his mid-thighs, and Logan had a beige-colored jacket over a plain black shirt.

They looked like idiots.

James peered down at his injured friend, who was still resting dazedly against his shoulder. "Oh yeah. He must have left it in the car."

What?

Kendall jerked his head up. He narrowed his eyes into slits, ignoring the twinges of pain it sent shooting across his face.

The car? Carlos _left _his helmet in the car? No. Carlos's helmet was his prized possession. It made him feel safe, prevented head injuries, reminded him of Minnesota and his love for hockey. If Chris had kidnapped the guys, there was no way Carlos would just leave it behind. He wouldn't forget it. He'd make sure it was safe.

So that only meant…

"You… You didn't," murmured Kendall, dread bubbling in his stomach. "Please tell me you didn't."

But they did. They totally did. He knew it. He could see it on their faces. And it was something they _would _do, too. Oh, man, he was so _stupid_! He should have seen this coming…

"Didn't what?" James asked. "The cops were after us, so we had to wear disguises. That's why we're all dressed weird. Carlos must have just forgot to put his helmet back on when we made it to—"

"Are you _kidding _me?" Kendall roared. The shout made him feel winded, but he didn't care.

Both James and Logan jumped.

"My head hurts," said Carlos.

"Start talking, _now_," Kendall demanded. His arm was once again dripping blood. "How did you guys get here?"

Logan groaned hopelessly and bit down on his lower lip. James just closed his eyes and blew out a puff of air.

"Guys, I am _not _kidding around—"

"Okay," the tallest boy relented. "It's kind of a funny story, really…"

Kendall wasn't laughing.

"We, uh, kinda stole your mom's car and drove across the state to come find you."

The blond's entire body tensed. His teeth clamped down on the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from exploding with rage.

But how could he keep his mouth shut? The reason he put himself through this pain, this humiliation, this _torture_, was to keep Carlos, James and Logan safe. And they purposefully tracked Kendall down anyway? After everything he went through? After being used as a human punching bag, after being tied to a chair, forced to pee in a bucket while some creep held him up by his waist? After being dehydrated and starving and worn and tired and trying to picture what Heaven would be like when he was dead?

_What _were his idiot friends _thinking_? And they stole his mom's car? No one even had a license!

"I think Kendall's mad."

"Shh," James hissed at Carlos. "Go back to sleep."

"No, don't sleep," said Logan, quickly. "Try to stay awake."

"My head hurts."

"I know, Carlos."

"You look nice."

"I… What?"

"Great," muttered James. "He's delusional."

"…Was that an insult?"

"You guys!" Kendall growled, face scarlet with anger. They shut up immediately. "How did you—" He broke off with a cough. It weakened his body, made him breathless. He had to calm down, get his temper under control. He took a deep breath, but regretted it, because the smell of Carlos's vomit was making him nauseous. "How did you find me?"

Logan returned his attention to chewing James's ropes as the brown-haired boy responded. "Carlos found an address in your room. So we typed it up and came here."

"What address? What are you talking about?"

"The address you left us. 1702 Weylin Road. Except the two was actually a Z."

Kendall racked his brain, thinking. Address? Kendall hadn't left an address. He had no idea where Jace and Rodney were going to take him when he left the apartment.

But wait. He remembered the envelope, the thick stack of photographs inside, the type-written letter. There had been another piece of paper within the jumble. He remembered, because he passed the card off as unimportant. But it was an address. And when he pitched the papers across his room, the address slip had been included in the pile. Perhaps when Kendall cleaned everything up, it had been overlooked…

But why would the men include the address to the warehouse in the envelope? It wasn't like Kendall was supposed to meet them there.

"So, anyway…," James continued when Kendall didn't say anything, "we snuck out and took your mom's car. We looked up the address online and found out it was a bakery in this town called Warrick, so Logan drove us there."

"A bakery?" Kendall was confused.

"Yeah. And when we got there we realized we didn't read the address right. It wasn't 1702 Weylin Road, it was 170Z Weylin Road."

"So you know where we are?"

"Way north, in a place called Redgrove."

Kendall had never heard of the town, but at least now he knew he was still on Earth.

But he was still angry. Still mad at his friends for their careless decisions. He didn't walk out and purposefully get himself into danger so they could follow him.

"Let's get one thing straight," said Kendall, hoarsely. "I did not leave you an address. It must have fallen out of the envelope. Don't you guys get it? I left to keep you all safe. And now—now you're here anyway! Apparently I did all this for nothing!"

"Hey!" James cried defensively. "It's not like we knew that, okay? You left us a note saying you were _sorry_, like that was supposed to make everything better and answer all our questions."

"Uh, James?" said Logan.

James gestured wildly as he continued his rant. "We had no idea what happened to you, Kendall, because we knew there had to be a reason why you left. A good reason. We thought, 'Oh, no, Kendall wouldn't abandon us! There has to be another reason why he ran away!'"

"James—"

"And we were right! You are in trouble. You're tied to a chair and you're bleeding and you're hurt and… and, _darn it_, Kendall, if you didn't want us to save you then you should have put that in your pathetic note so we knew not to waste our time—"

"James!" Kendall and Logan shouted simultaneously.

"_What_?" He looked down and saw that his hands were free. "Oh."

"Hurry up and untie us," Logan urged, rolling over on his back. "Oh man, my mouth hurts…"

James grinned, flexing his fingers and wrists. "Good work, Logan," he congratulated. He struggled to keep Carlos upright while looping his arm around to get at the ropes binding his ankles.

Kendall's heart began to beat faster. He glanced nervously at the door, half-expecting someone to come bursting through. His gaze then flicked over to James, who was struggling to unfasten the restraints. James's sweaty fingers worked quickly, dipping into the spaces between coils, yanking on the hard knot.

Kendall felt the hot panic began to creep into him. He needed to find a way to turn his anxiousness into fuel to give his body strength. If Rodney, Jace or Chris came in while the guys were attempting to escape, Kendall knew he'd be useless in the battle for freedom. With the exception of being hauled up by Rodney to use the bucket, Kendall hadn't been on his feet in a long time. And explaining his situation to his friends had fatigued him greatly. Maybe it was best if the guys left him there. They could call the police and come back for him later.

James was finally loose. He tossed the useless ropes aside, then instantly rotated around and started working on Logan's wrists, leaving Carlos to balance on his own. However, the Latino only stayed on his bottom for a few moments before he tottered dizzily and then collapsed backwards.

Suddenly, Kendall was itching to get out. The room was growing in temperature yet again, his own perspiration mixing into the knife wound on his arm. It throbbed to the beat of his rapid pulse, making him cringe. His leg wanted to bounce. He had to move, had to get out of the chair. Claustrophobia had never really been an issue for him, but at the moment it was threatening to swallow Kendall whole.

He looked at the door again. It was still. Maybe too still. Maybe there was a secret peephole in the wood, and Rodney and Jace were peering through the other side, just waiting for Big Time Rush to make a run for it before they stomped in with their guns and began firing…

Kendall yelped when he felt a presence behind him. He remembered how Chris had leaned in close and spoke right in his ear, how the man's breath ghosted his skin and sent chills running down his back.

"Relax, man, it's just me," said James's gentle voice. "Hang on. You're almost out."

It was almost comforting to hear those words. Almost. For so long Kendall had convinced himself he would never see his friends again. He convinced himself it was okay to die, okay to leave the guys and his family behind. Because he was dying for them. Dying to protect them.

And now here they were, freeing him. Saving him.

Something was a little messed up.

"Hey." Another soft voice. Logan crouched in front of Kendall, flashing an encouraging smile before starting on the blond's ankles.

Kendall was abruptly uncomfortable. He offered slight wiggling of his arms in attempts to assist James, but all the while he could only imagine Chris behind him. He shivered, then cursed at himself and prayed Logan or James didn't notice. They were moving quickly and composedly. Kendall couldn't act afraid now.

"These are on pretty tight," James remarked with a grunt, giving a particularly rough tug.

Kendall let out a squeak of pain and surprise. Logan shot James a glare, then flashed Kendall another grin.

Logan. Just focus on Logan. Don't freak out, don't freak out. It's just James behind the chair. Focus on Logan.

"Got it," Logan said. No sooner had he said the words when Kendall felt the sudden release of pressure. He gasped, slowly shifting legs to get some blood flowing. He closed his eyes, feeling it pump into his veins, travel through his feet, his toes, up his legs.

Then, James: "Finally."

The ropes loosened around his wrists, then brushed against his raw skin as they fell to the floor. His arms immediately slumped to his sides, twinges and tingles assaulting his underused muscles. Knowing he was free to extend and stretch, his entire body felt lighter, like a giant weight had been lifted.

Exhausted, Kendall sensed lightheadedness. He groaned and collapsed forward. A strong pair of arms prevented him from crashing to the floor.

"I got you," Logan murmured, keeping Kendall balanced. "I got you, Kendall."

The blond pressed his head against his friend's shoulder, catching his breath. His arms were heavy now. Heavy and limp and crawling with pins and needles. Plus, the knife wound seemed to be dripping again. He was quivering like a bowl of Jell-O.

Logan secured a tight grip on Kendall's shoulder, ensuring Kendall didn't topple over. Logan's other arm looped around Kendall's torso, fingers curled around a fistful of shirt. He spoke soothingly. "It's alright, Kendall, it's alright. But we have to go, okay? We have to go." He rubbed Kendall's back. "Stay with me. Come on, buddy."

He heard Logan's words, but couldn't bring himself to break away. He was tired. So tired. He needed a minute, just a minute to remain in someone's protective hold and get himself under control. To forget about Rodney and Jace and Chris and Gustavo and everything.

Logan supported Kendall's full weight; without the smaller boy's aid, Kendall would be flat on the floor. He wasn't even sure if he could sit up. He was just so tired…

"We have to go," Logan repeated softly.

"Okay," Kendall gasped. "Yeah, okay. Okay." He dreaded pulling away from the much-needed physical contact, but knew his friend was right. He allowed himself one more moment of Logan's awkward embrace, and then, with a boost of willpower, lifted his head. Logan helped, grabbing both of Kendall's shoulders and pushing him tentatively back into the chair.

Kendall forgot he was still mad.

Black splotches marred his vision. His hearing was temporarily muffled and dull, as if underwater. Kendall's head rolled back, and he stared at the ceiling, the rows of lights above glaring and painful. The back of the chair dug painfully into his shoulder blades and irritated the bruises already on his skin. No, no, he couldn't stay there a second longer. He had to get out of the chair, had to move…

Then, just like that, it was gone. He could see again, he could hear. The nausea passed, the panic fleeing with it.

He blinked, disoriented.

"Where… Where's Kendall?" Carlos wondered. He sounded like a frightened little kid. "Is Kendall, is he…? Where is he?"

James and Logan had finally untied Carlos, and had both seized an arm to keep him stationary. Logan was attempting to inspect the wound on Carlos's head, but Carlos kept ducking out of the way.

Kendall's stomach dropped to his feet. He bit back a sob. "I'm right here, Carlos," he tried to say. But it didn't come out. His voice was too scratchy and soft to be heard from ten feet away.

Another nervous glance at the door. It was blurry. But quiet.

"Carlos, come on. Stand up," Logan coaxed, giving the Latino's arm a tug.

Carlos shook his head. "No."

"Yes_. _C'mon, we have to get out of here before those guys come back."

"No."

"We don't have time for this!"

Kendall tossed his body out of the chair. He stuck his arms in front of him to break his fall, but they gave out and left him flat on his stomach. "_Oof_!"

"Kendall!" Logan and James cried in unison. Logan raced over, placing both hands underneath the blond to help him upright. Logan suddenly froze, eyes widening when he touched something warm and wet. "Kendall, your arm…"

"It's fine," he murmured, struggling to get on his hands and knees. When Kendall managed, he shrugged Logan away and crawled on all fours over to Carlos. Progress was slow, almost agonizing. At one point his palm slipped over the slick cement, moist from his own blood. He somehow recovered from his stumble and reached his destination, though not without sweat dripping down his skin.

The smell of vomit was overpowering and had Kendall's stomach churning unpleasantly. James and Logan stepped back respectfully as Kendall grabbed both of Carlos's shoulders and gave them a shake. "Carlos? Buddy? You okay?" His scratchy voice was barely a whisper.

"K-Kendall…"

"Yeah. Yeah, man, it's me." He stroked his hand over the side of Carlos's face. "You gotta hang on, okay, Carlitos? Hang on."

Carlos whimpered and rubbed at his ears, grimacing in discomfort. With his other hand he fisted the collar of Kendall's shirt and tugged him forward.

"Hang on," Kendall repeated. He wedged his arms between their bodies, holding Carlos at bay. As much as Kendall wanted to allow Carlos to fall into an embrace, he knew he'd never be able to let go if he did. "We're going to get out of here, and you'll be safe. Everything will be okay. You hear me?"

Carlos sniffled and squeezed his eyes shut. Kendall knew from the past that sometimes Carlos would close his eyes when he was upset. It prevented tears from escaping.

"Logan an' James said, said that… That they wouldn't leave, that you can't leave. That's what they promised, they promised they can't… They wouldn't leave."

Kendall gingerly placed a hand on the back of Carlos's head and tilted it downwards, answering the garble as he scrutinized the injury. "No, no. I'm not leaving. I'm right here. We're all right here." The blood was dark red and mostly dry. Some had rolled down Carlos's neck and stained his shirt.

Kendall's vision clouded over. "Aw, Carlos, why do you try to be a superhero all the time, huh?" He placed a brotherly hand on his friend's cheek. He noticed Carlos's pupils were dilated wide, making his eyes look like two dark holes.

Kendall quickly looked away when he felt Carlos's grip on his shirt tighten. "James, Logan. One of you help him."

James knelt down and placed his hand over Carlos's, prying the injured boy's fingers from their hold. Carlos squirmed in protest, but he ultimately didn't put up much of a fight.

Kendall watched remorsefully as James slipped an arm around Carlos's torso, then lifted, hoisting Carlos awkwardly to his feet. James then bent his knees and secured a second arm around his friend, lifting him up and tossing him over one shoulder.

"Dude, what have you been eating?" James joked, grunting in effort. It was a good thing Carlos was a whole head shorter than James, or carrying him would be difficult.

Carlos's arms swayed flaccidly over James's shoulder. "Chicken nuggets," he mumbled.

James chuckled. "Concussed Carlos is fun."

Kendall just stared. He didn't notice that Logan had maneuvered behind him until two arms were sliding underneath his own.

"Whoa, hey!" Kendall nearly shouted, jutting an elbow back defensively. Or, at least, he tried to. He couldn't quite make his muscles tense enough, so his arm looked like it had some sort of spasm.

Logan recoiled. He held up both hands apologetically. "Sorry, just trying to help you up."

Kendall breathed hard, looking again towards the door that could open at any second. He felt two pink circles begin to burn his cheeks. He was so stupid. Of course Chris wouldn't be behind him, Chris was in the other room. It was just Carlos, James and Logan. No one else.

Kendall sighed, eyes on the ground. "Okay, yeah. Sorry."

Logan started again, cautiously. Kendall tried to help him out, but it was useless. _He _was useless. He was just so tired…

"You're really hurt, aren't you?" Logan took Kendall's uninjured arm and draped it across his shoulders. Then he stood, Kendall coming up with him.

The rush of blood to Kendall's head was nearly enough to bring back the smells of breakfast. An involuntary moan escaped his lips as his body went limp.

"Whoa," Logan gasped. He wrapped an arm firmly around Kendall's middle and pulled up. "Hang on, I got you. Try to help me, okay? Try to stand."

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"I'm really hurt." Kendall said it quietly, hopefully out of earshot to James and Carlos. But someone had to know. Someone had to know that Kendall wasn't going anywhere. "Logan, just go. Get the guys out of here. Call the police and come back for me later—"

"Kendall, no. Don't even say that. We came here to bring you home, and that's exactly what we're going to do. Now shut up and help me."

"I didn't w-want you to come."

Logan didn't respond. He called over to James, who still had Carlos slung over him like sack of potatoes. "Go to the back door. You'll have to hold it open for us."

"Oh sure, it's not like my arms are occupied," James grumbled sarcastically. He hoisted Carlos up higher in his arms. "He's a lot heavier than he looks, you know."

"Someone put the floor on the ceiling," Carlos informed.

As James began to trek across the room with Carlos, Logan took the first step forward with Kendall. Then a second. Then a third.

But when the fourth step came around, Kendall's knees buckled. He groaned, slumping nearly to the floor. Logan gasped in surprise, but his strong arms didn't falter. Steps number five and six were accomplished by Logan pressing on while the toes of Kendall's shoes dragged uselessly across the ground.

Kendall shook his head and regained his footing. The soles of his feet ached, his arm was sticky with blood, and there seemed to be a significant lack of oxygen in the room.

"Kendall," Logan huffed, face red from exertion. "What did those guys do to you?"

Kendall sensed the fear and concern in his friend's tone. He pretended not to hear the question.

James and Carlos had nearly reached the back door. As Kendall forced his feet to cooperate and trudge along with Logan, he studied his two friends up ahead. James set Carlos on his feet, hugging the wobbling boy close to his side to make sure he didn't tip over. With his free hand, James tried the doorknob. It rattled beneath his fist.

"Oh no."

"What?" exclaimed Logan. For the first time he sounded panic-stricken.

James twisted the knob again, jiggling it vigorously. He rammed his shoulder against the door. Nothing happened.

He stepped back and sighed with defeat. "It's locked."


	17. Vulnerable

**A/N: Thanks again to Mizz Nikki, the awesome beta for this chapter. :D And thank you to everyone reading and reviewing. Please continue to do so! :) Also, if you haven't yet done so, I would appreciate it if you guys voted on the poll I have on my profile. It would really help me out.**

**Warnings: Violence, language, some angst, and an epic cliffhanger.**

* * *

Chapter 17  
Vulnerable

"Logan, you have to calm down," said James.

"Calm down? Calm _down_? I am calm! I am _so _calm! I mean, the only way out of this place is somehow locked from the outside. Why wouldn't I be calm?"

Logan was shaking. With one of Kendall's arms draped over Logan's shoulders and Kendall being pressed close against his friend's side, he could feel the tremors Logan's body was producing. He wished he could offer some words of comfort, come up with a plan, do something. But how could he? Logan was right. Their only exit was suddenly no longer an option for escape.

"Hang on, okay?" James grumbled. "Let's think of something else. There's got to be something else." His eyes were on Kendall. He was seeking backup, someone to reassure Logan that everything would be okay.

Kendall didn't say anything.

"My head hurts," Carlos reminded.

"Kendall," breathed Logan. "Is it okay if…" He grunted in discomfort. "I have to put you down for a second."

With Logan's muscles weak with fear and struggling to support nearly all of Kendall's weight, it was a surprise Logan himself was still standing. The two trudged a few steps forward until they reached the back wall. Panting in effort, Logan slowly unhitched Kendall's arm and lowered him gently to the floor. Pain rocketed up Kendall's legs and torso. He gritted his teeth and bit back any noise of distress that threatened to slip from his mouth.

Logan stepped back, bowing his head and placing his hands on his knees. Beside him, James knelt to the ground and positioned Carlos next to Kendall. Carlos managed to sit on his own with his back propped against the wall. His pupils were blown wide and his eyes darted across the room.

"James, I think you got taller," said Carlos.

James wiped the back of his hand across his visibly damp forehead, ignoring his friend for now. "Look." He nodded towards the door. "There's a keypad on the wall. Maybe we can guess the code that will open the door."

"Oh yeah," said Logan, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because there's only, like, an infinite number of combinations. That should be easy to guess."

James frowned. He turned on his heel with a dramatic spin and marched over to the device mounted on the wall. He flipped up the cover and stared thoughtfully at the numbers. "Okay, Mr. Negative. The one, five, seven, eight and zero are all faded on the keypad. So that probably means those are the numbers in the code."

"Yeah, but assuming those _are _the only numbers _and _there are no repeats, that still leaves…" Logan did a few mental calculations. "A hundred and twenty different combinations."

"Well, maybe we should start guessing and stop wasting time."

"You're the only one who's going to be wasting his time! You'll never guess the code before those guys come back."

"Oh, please. It could be the first combo I try." James reached for a button.

"No, don't! You don't know what will happen if you guess wrong. Maybe an alarm will sound, or something."

James huffed a sigh of frustration. "So what do you want to do then? Just sit here and wait for those guys to come back?"

"I… maybe, okay? I don't know! I really don't…" Logan turned helplessly to Kendall.

Kendall barely listened. He cradled his pounding head with one hand while the room spun around him. He wanted to help. But how could he be of assistance when he had no idea which of his friends' suggestions were the right thing to do? How could he be useful when he could barely walk on his own?

James put both hands on his head and wandered towards the middle of the large room. It made Kendall uneasy. They should remain close together. If one of the men decided to come back in, James would be separated from the rest of the group.

"Hey." Someone squatted in front of him. It took a few moments for the face to come into focus. It was Logan. "You okay?"

Kendall stared at him.

"Windows!" James cried triumphantly, ceasing his aimless pacing. "We can break the windows and climb out."

Logan twisted around, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, good luck finding a way to reach that high."

"We've got the chair. And we could have someone stand on my shoulders, like we did before."

Logan shook his head. "Kendall and Carlos won't be able to make it through. And even if we could boost them up somehow, the noise would be too loud."

James kicked angrily at the floor with his shoe. His eyes began a careful scan of every inch of the vicinity.

"Since when does James take charge?" murmured Kendall. For the first time in days he felt a genuine smirk curve the corners of his lips. He wasn't sure what sort of feeling he had inside of him. Maybe he was proud—happy his friends could handle themselves without him. As Kendall recalled, Logan had been quick to devise a way to break the ropes while Kendall was unconscious. James was calm and determined to find a way out of the building, and had been especially helpful carrying Carlos when the concussed boy refused to move.

His friends had changed during the short time he'd been gone. Frankly, Kendall expected Logan to be having some sort of anxiety attack, and James and Carlos to be moaning about their hapless situation.

Logan turned back to Kendall. He matched the blond's amused expression and lowered his voice. "Since you left. You should have seen him, Kendall. He never stopped believing in you. And he stayed strong, even when I wasn't."

Kendall shifted his gaze past Logan and to his taller friend, who was staring at the ceiling like the answer to their problems would fall right from the sky. James had always been a bit on the stubborn side, but the quality was just as much a good thing as it was a fault. Thankfully James had remained optimistic.

"What about Carlos?" Kendall asked.

"He was very…" Logan fumbled for a word. "Cooperative."

Kendall tried to laugh, but it sounded like a cough. The muscles in his chest tightened and his body lurched forward.

Logan grabbed Kendall's forearms and clutched them tightly. "Kendall, you said—" He looked away, closed his eyes, and took a breath to compose himself. "You said you were really hurt."

"What about you?" pressed Kendall. "How have you been?"

"Kendall, please. Tell me what they did—"

"Logan."

Logan held his stare for a long moment. Kendall noticed the tears slowly begin to well in his friend's eyes. Then Logan looked away, pensively setting his jaw and pursing his lips. He blinked hard, eyes everywhere except Kendall's face.

"I…" He shook his head. Then, a whisper: "You still left, Kendall."

It was like a punch to the stomach. All the air rushed from Kendall's lungs. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, desperately trying to make words. "Logan, no," Kendall managed to choke out. "I—"

"I know. You don't have to say it again. I get it. You left to protect us." His voice was a low murmur, but he might as well have been yelling. The words were like daggers in Kendall's heart. "But if it means you're getting hurt, maybe we don't want to be saved."

It was as if Kendall's mind shut down completely. He could only stare blankly, hoping what he had just heard was another trick of his weary imagination.

"Okay, I got it," James said, snapping his fingers. "I know how we can get out…" His voice trailed off when he noticed Logan and Kendall. "What?"

Logan wiped something from his eye, then stood, leaving Kendall to sit alone by the wall. "Nothing. What's your plan?" asked Logan.

James examined them both for a few seconds. Then he pointed over his shoulder. "We could go through that door."

Logan scoffed. "That's where the bad guys are, genius."

"Yeah, but think about it," said James. "What are the odds they're going to be right on the other side? I mean, there's probably a hallway or something, right? Maybe some other rooms?"

"And what if you're wrong?" Logan shot back. "What if it's another wide, open space, and the second we open the door they see us?"

"There's no other options! We could try it, that's all I'm saying."

"_Try_ it? James, this isn't like hockey where if you miss the goal you can take another shot. If you're wrong about this and the bad guys are sitting right behind that door, they will hurt you."

"Oh, come on. It's not like they're going to kill us. You heard that guy. The blond one—what'd you say his name was, Kendall? Chris?—he told those other guys to keep us alive. Remember? He said he might be able to use us. Whatever that means." James shrugged. "If you're too scared to go, then I'll do it."

"You're leaving?" Carlos squeaked, lifting his head. "James's going away?"

Carlos's voice pulled Kendall from his trance. He sucked in a mouthful of humid air, then blinked a few times to get his vision back into focus. He'd nearly forgotten Carlos was there. The Latino was only a few feet to the right, slouching against the wall. One hand was covered over his ear. His brow was crinkled in confusion and concern.

"No," Kendall answered quickly. All heads turned towards him. "Guys, please don't fight. Please. Let's just stick together, okay? No one leave. Just… please."

"You want us to just sit here and wait for those guys to come back?" said James, sounding more surprised than angry. "We've already been here for, what, a half hour? They're probably going to come back soon. And you need a doctor, and Carlos needs a doctor, and who knows what's happening to Gustavo right now…" James turned away. His shoulders quivered.

Halfway between where James was standing and where Kendall was sitting, Logan rubbed a hand over his face before squatting to the ground. He bowed his head dejectedly, letting his forehead touch his knees.

Kendall glanced at the door across the room. He waited for it to open. Waited for Rodney to barge in with his large muscles. For Jace to stomp behind, twirling a gun with his skinny fingers. For Chris to slither in like the serpent he was.

"Are they leaving?" asked Carlos, reaching over to tug on Kendall's sleeve. "Logan an' James?"

"No," said Kendall, dry throat making his voice bounce in its pitch. "No one's leaving."

"Oh." Carlos nodded, understanding. "My head hurts."

"I know."

"Because they said—they said they wouldn't. That's, um, what they… That's what they said."

"Okay."

"And you said it. Ken'all said it."

"I know I did. And I meant it, too."

"Okay. Okay, because, you… um… You, uh… Ken'all, my head hurts."

Kendall looked to Logan and James. "Why's Carlos so concerned about you guys leaving him?" But deep down, he figured he already knew the answer. "Is it because of me?"

James finally turned and Logan stood, each teen with pale faces. They both exchanged glances. "When we were looking for you," explained Logan, almost seeming a tad embarrassed, "we misread the address slip and ended up at a bakery. I thought that, you know, we were done. That the address was a dead end and we'd never find you."

"But I didn't agree," continued James. "I thought there had to be something else. It turned out I was right, but still. Me and Logan got into a fight, and… Carlos was in the middle of it, trying to stop us."

Kendall raised an eyebrow. Now that he looked closely, he could see tiny marks on James's cheeks and forehead. He smirked. "Is that how you got those cuts on your face? Logie try to scratch your eyes out or something?"

Logan laughed; James yelped in horror. His hands raced to his face. "Lo-gan! You said they weren't noticeable!"

"Well what was I supposed to tell you?" Logan snickered. "You wouldn't have went out in public otherwise." He looked at Kendall. "Those aren't from me, actually. They're from a chipmunk."

"A… chipmunk?"

"Long story."

"Anyway," grumbled James, getting back to the anecdote, "we promised Carlos that no matter what happened, we'd stick together. We wouldn't leave him." James dropped his hands and sighed. He gazed at his injured friend with sorrow. "So don't worry, okay, Carlos? We're not going to start breaking promises now."

"Mmkay," Carlos happily hummed.

The room fell into silence. Kendall unconsciously glanced at the door again. James was right. Big Time Rush never broke a promise. And Kendall had made many promises to his friends—some directly, some inwardly. He remembered pee-wee hockey, and how all the guys promised they'd stick together forever. He remembered being at the rink watching the team get pulverized by Duluth East, and promising himself he'd never give up. Not on that, not on anything. He remembered winning that game.

He had left home to save his friends. And they weren't safe yet. Kendall still had work to do.

If they stayed in the room, they were toast. Kendall had learned enough from Carlos's father to know a kidnapping case never turned out too well for the hostage. They had to get outside somehow. Taking the back door was out of the question considering it was locked. Trying a random combination on the keypad was too risky; it could set off an alarm or something that could immediately alert Rodney, Jace or Chris. Forcing the door open would be too loud, as would breaking the windows.

But wait. Maybe that wasn't a bad thing.

"Kendall, when I was eight, I had a crush on your mom."

Kendall snapped out of his thoughts with a cough and sputter. "Come again?"

Logan blushed.

"Logan, what—? Why are you telling me this?"

"Well, you know." Logan shrugged sheepishly. "I figure if we're going to sit here and wait for our inevitable doom, I might as well clear my conscious. James, a few weeks ago I spilled my cereal, and paper towels were no match for the puddle of milk, so I used your purple shirt to clean it up because I couldn't find a rag."

"I knew it!" James cried, pointing a finger.

"Carlos, one time I stole Fruit Smackers from your lunchbox. But I was seven, okay? I didn't know what I was doing—"

"Logan," Kendall cut in, sighing in frustration. "Cool it, okay? We're not going to die."

"We're not?"

"No." Kendall placed his palms flat on the cold cement floor and gritted his teeth. Using as much strength as he could possibly summon, he pushed himself up so he sat with his back completely erect, then readied himself to stand. "I have a plan."

Logan started forward to help Kendall to his feet, but James was quicker, brushing past the smaller boy as he approached. He kneeled in front of Kendall and grabbed his arms.

Kendall gripped James's shoulders for support as he was awkwardly lifted. His muscles screamed with the strain. James hesitated when a hiss of pain emerged from Kendall's mouth, but Kendall nodded his head to tell his friend it was okay.

When Kendall was standing, James still didn't let go. Instead he gave Kendall's shoulder an affectionate shake. It hurt a little, but Kendall didn't want to tell him to stop. "Hey," James said, quietly. "I'm sorry about what I said before."

Kendall grinned playfully. "Are you turning into Logan? Trying to get everything off your chest?"

James smirked back for half a second. Then he squeezed Kendall tighter, expression morphing into one more serious. "I'm just glad you're safe."

"Not safe," Kendall corrected without thinking. "Alive."

Logan appeared beside them, looking jittery and lost. Kendall hardly noticed, as he was too engaged locking eyes with James.

"So, um, what's your plan?" Logan timidly asked, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket.

Kendall was the first to break the stare. He saw the fear on Logan's face and spoke confidently but honestly. "It's risky. But it's the only chance we have."

His two friends waited expectantly. James still didn't remove his hands.

It felt like Kendall's throat had been scraped with a wire brush. He winced in anticipation of the pain that would come from explaining his idea. "There's three men. Chris, the blond guy—he's in charge of whatever's going on. Then there's Jace, the short guy. I think he's like, second in command or something. He's the one who did this to my face."

James tensed. Logan rubbed at his eyes.

"And Rodney is the big guy. He doesn't say much. He waves a gun around, but he's never hurt me." A tickle in Kendall's sore throat made him gasp and then erupt into a spell of weak, dry coughs, each one taking a bit of life from his body. His knees wobbled and shook, but he had Logan to hold him up and James to pat his back.

When he finally stopped, he sucked in a few breaths and continued, voice more hoarse and uneven than ever. "Before you guys came in, all three of those guys were in the room. They heard a noise outside and made Rodney go out and investigate. And ever since I've been tied to that chair, only one guy has come in at a time to… talk to me, or whatever." He decided not to mention the bucket.

"So what are you saying?" wondered Logan.

"I'm saying, if we make a loud enough noise, odds are only one guy is going to come out of that door to check it out. We can catch him off guard."

"And fight them?" exclaimed Logan. "Kendall, no offense, but you can barely stand. Not to mention Carlos is out of it, so it would pretty much be just me and James. And those guys have guns. You know what? No. Absolutely not. We're not fighting them."

"No," said James, "I think Kendall's right. I think it's a good idea."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. We press ourselves against the wall, and as soon as the door opens we attack. They wouldn't even have time to draw a gun."

"Okay, but we don't have any weapons. I don't think we're strong enough to take those guys with just our fists, especially that big guy. We're completely vulnerable."

"I thought of that too," said Kendall. He nodded towards the wall to the left, which was aligned with rows of dusty, drooping shelves. "We can pry a couple of those off the wall."

"You keep saying _we_," Logan pointed out.

"Yeah," replied Kendall. "I'm helping too."

Both Logan and James opened their mouths to argue, but a strange noise cut them off. Kendall's heart nearly leaped from his chest, and his gaze instinctively flew to the door across the room. It remained still. The noise had come from somewhere to the right.

Carlos gripped his head with both hands, crying and sniffling softly to himself. His eyes were squeezed shut in distress.

Kendall felt completely helpless to comfort his friend. He knew all the things Carlos wanted to hear, but Kendall always hated lying to his friends.

James stepped back and narrowed his eyes in sympathy.

"Hey, Carlos." Logan immediately knelt in front of the Latino. "What's the matter, buddy?"

"I—I—I…," Carlos tried to say, hiccupping too violently to form a coherent sentence. Big tears streamed down his cheeks, which were drained of color. "I don't—I don't…"

"You don't what?"

"I d-don't like this. Logan, I don't. I-I don't like it." He shook his head back and forth repeatedly.

James and Kendall watched silently, unable to move.

"Why are you crying?" Logan asked, gently. He grabbed both of Carlos's wrists and slowly peeled them away from his head. "Does your head still hurt?"

"I don't like this," Carlos wailed.

Logan held up his index finger and moved it side to side in front of Carlos's face. "Look at my finger, okay? Try to follow it with your eyes."

Carlos peered up and blinked several times. "No," he sobbed.

"What do you mean?"

"It's too… I can't—It's too fast."

Trying to get Carlos under control was taking much too long. They were running out of time.

Kendall tapped James's shoulder to get his attention. Leaving Logan to tend to Carlos, the two teens tore away from the heartbreaking sight and began the trek to the wall containing the shelves. James started to slip his arm around Kendall to support the weary boy, but Kendall shrugged away the assistance to merely clutch James's arm. He figured if he was about to help his friends fight, he needed to stretch his muscles a bit so they weren't so incredibly painful.

The first few steps were the hardest. His fingernails dug into the flesh of James's arm as the two progressed forward. But with each tiny motion, Kendall could feel the tightness inside of him loosening. It pained him to move, but it was a good kind of pain; a pain that would subside once he mustered the strength to walk it off. But lack of food and water had weakened Kendall considerably, and he knew he'd be too exhausted to swing a heavy board any more than a couple times.

Taking a deep breath, Kendall let go of James's arm to stand unaided. He tottered like a child taking his first steps, but managed not to crash to the ground.

James held out his hands in caution, ready to catch Kendall if he fell. But Kendall was determined. He grunted and gasped as he limped closer and closer to his destination. Somewhere behind he could still hear Carlos's wailing and Logan's hushed words of comfort. Kendall used the noise as fuel to make the final steps to the wall.

He gripped one edge of a dilapidated shelf. It was obvious the thing was barely connected to the wall, a rusty screw just managing to keep it in place. It took almost no effort for Kendall to pop the board away from the wall without so much as a creak or crack.

James did the same, a cloud of dust billowing when the old wood was pried away. He grabbed an extra board for Logan. Both makeshift weapons were about the length of James's arm.

"What are we going to do about Carlos?" he wondered.

Kendall hadn't exactly thought of that. "Um, I guess we need to set him somewhere out of the way so he doesn't get hurt, but close enough so we can grab him and run if we need to."

"You're in no shape to run," James observed, concerned eyes traveling over Kendall's bruised and beaten body.

"I know." Kendall put one hand on James's shoulder. He spoke in complete earnestness. "Listen. If something happens and you get the chance to run, then you and Logan grab Carlos and go."

James shook his head back and forth as Kendall continued to speak.

"You run, get outside, and find help. Don't wait for me. Don't even look back. Just run."

"No," James said, firmly. "I'm not leaving here without you."

"I'm just saying. If it comes down to it, James, you have to leave me behind. You have to. Once you call the cops, they can come back for me."

"Once I call the cops it could be too late!" cried James. He angrily shrugged away Kendall's hand. "I don't care what you say. We're not getting separated again. If we go down, we can at least go down together."

"Don't say that," Kendall scolded.

James pretended not to hear. "Hey, Logan," he called over, holding up a plank. "Come on, we have to do this now."

Tears threatened to spring to Kendall's eyes, but he fought them away. Now was not the time to become emotional.

He started the hobble over to the mysterious door. With each step he took, the trepidation thumping in his chest grew heavier and heavier. He only hoped that when the door opened, it wasn't Chris standing on the other side. Jace and Rodney he could deal with. Rodney seemed obedient to the other men and unable to think for himself. Jace was dangerous yet predictable. If Kendall mouthed off or looked at the man the wrong way, fists would fly.

But Chris was different.

Chris's actions weren't foreseeable like the others. Chris had a quiet, cold quality to him. Kendall couldn't tell what the sly man was thinking. One second Chris had pushed back Kendall's hair like a father might do to a son, and the next he was dragging a knife down Kendall's arm. And he hadn't even flinched.

Kendall shivered at the unpleasant memory of Chris's voice in his ear. But he couldn't concentrate on any of that now. He had to stay focused on the current plan.

A sharp, abrupt pain assaulted his right side, and the wound on his arm began to throb once more. But the worse nuisance was the hunger and the thirst. If he could have even a sip of cold water, he was sure it would revive his entire body and flood him with the energy he needed.

Nearly to the door, Kendall peered over his shoulder. Logan held both boards in his hands while a crying and disoriented Carlos had his arms latched around James's neck. The taller boy lifted, carrying Carlos like he had before.

"I want to go home," Carlos sniffled as James started towards Kendall on the opposite end of the room.

Kendall whispered quietly to himself, "Me too." He clutched the board tighter in his hand. The wood was splintery and rough and cut into his palms. When Kendall looked down to examine his hands, he noticed the red rings around his wrists.

"Okay, Carlos," James said, as if explaining the situation to a child. "I'm going to set you by the wall here, okay? That way you won't get hurt." He bended to the ground several feet down from the mysterious door. Carlos wouldn't let go.

"I don't like this," he repeated, squeezing James tighter. "You said, remember? You said."

"Said what?" James grabbed Carlos's hands and forcibly removed them.

"You said you wouldn't leave. And Ken'all said, too. He won't leave, just like you said."

James rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "You just hang on, alright?"

"Okie dokie artichokie."

James accepted a plank from Logan. He twisted away from Carlos and approached the door. He stared at the doorknob, as if waiting for it to turn.

Kendall stood on the opposite side, holding his weapon high in his hands. As light as it was, his arms quivered from the strain. A pounding headache was making him nauseous, and he feared he'd start to be sick before anyone had a chance to barge in.

"So, um, should we knock?" Logan asked, huddling behind James.

James looked up at Kendall, searching for the go-ahead.

Kendall closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. It had to be done. It was their only chance for escape.

Kendall nodded.

Without further hesitation, James balled a fist and slammed it hard against the door. He gave it three hard whacks, then pressed his body flat against the wall, holding his piece of shelf across his chest. Logan seemed to be petrified where he stood, so James grabbed him by the collar and tugged him back as well.

The boys waited in utter silence. Kendall's heart was thumping so loudly he wondered if the guys could hear it. He was scared. If James missed or didn't get a clear shot at whoever opened the door, the consequences would be dire.

Hot beads of sweat dripped down Kendall's forehead and neck. His rumbling stomach broke the silence, but no one else seemed to notice.

A tiny click made everyone jump. It came from the other side of the door.

Kendall tensed, standing straighter.

The doorknob twisted. The door flew open.

Without hesitation, James stepped out and swung his weapon like a baseball bat at the figure in the doorway. When he made contact with his target, there was a sickening _snap _as the old wood broke into two pieces. One chunk clattered loudly to the ground.

With James left holding a blunt stub of wood, Kendall jumped out to take a swing himself. He froze when he saw Jace on his knees, one hand covering his injured temple, and Rodney behind, dumbstruck by the attack.

Jace muttered a vicious curse as he attempted to pull himself up. Blood seeped through his fingers.

While Kendall stood gaping, Logan pushed his way in front of his friends and jabbed his board forward like a lance. It jutted over Jace's shoulder and made contact with Rodney's abdomen.

The big man looked down at the plank like it was a twig. He wrapped one beefy hand around it and tugged.

Logan's eyes widened in realization a moment too late. He was jerked through the doorway and collided into Jace, who was still struggling to get on his feet.

"Logan!" James and Kendall shrieked simultaneously.

James tossed the remainder of his damaged weapon somewhere aside and lunged forward, wrapping both his arms around Logan's waist. Logan finally released his hold on the board. He stumbled when Jace grabbed his ankle, but James was strong enough to pull him loose.

The two boys backpedaled, tripping clumsily over each other until they were several feet away from the danger of the opened door. Both panted hard in fear.

Kendall readied himself to get revenge on the men who harmed his friends, but immediately changed his mind and let his board tumble from his fingers.

Jace had freed his gun.

Before the three boys even had time to raise their hands in surrender, Rodney had revealed his pistol as well. Both weapons were trained at the boys, who stood quivering and huddled closely together.

Kendall sneaked a glance at Carlos. The injured boy remained propped up against the wall in the same spot the boys had left him. He was humming softly again, swaying his body nonchalantly to his meaningless tune.

Rodney maneuvered past Jace and stepped into the large room, never lowering his gun. He moved cautiously but threateningly, with long, careful strides and a focused look on his face.

"I don't think our plan worked," Logan whispered.

Kendall's stomach clenched with guilt. He thought for sure only one man would come to investigate, and expected Rodney to be the one to do it. And now Jace had a new target for his anger.

The shorter man finally pulled himself to his feet, one hand still over the area where James had struck him. He stomped into the room and slammed the door shut behind him, the noise bouncing off the walls.

Kendall stood protectively in front of James and Logan, hoping to shield them from Jace's rage. He had witnessed Jace give Carlos a concussion without a moment's hesitation; he knew what the man was capable of. But Kendall wasn't confined to a chair anymore. This time, he could defend his friends.

Jace growled as he finally removed his hand. Bright red blood poured from the gash on his head and trailed into his left eye. He angrily smeared it away with the palm of his hand, cursing again.

"You're going to regret doing that," he hissed at James, gesturing with his gun.

Kendall opened his mouth to protest, but, surprisingly, Rodney beat him to it.

"Chris said not to kill them."

Jace scoffed and spat out a wad of pink saliva. "I don't care what Chris says; these punks are more trouble than they're worth. And how the hell did they even get loose? Didn't you tie them up?"

"I tied them up. You saw me."

"Well you obviously didn't do a good enough job, did you?" Jace took a few steps forward. He examined the boys with fiery eyes, then rotated in a circle, clearly searching for the fourth member of the band.

Kendall held his breath when Jace finally located Carlos. But when the man saw that the Latino was sitting harmlessly out of the way and still humming to himself, he ignored Carlos altogether.

"Ever since we brought Blondie in," said Jace, "I wanted so badly to kill him. He's nothing but a smartass who doesn't care if he lives or dies anyway."

Kendall gulped.

Jace's gaze shifted to James. "But you know, my head is pretty sore from that swing." He stormed towards the group, who were helpless, and approached the tallest boy.

Logan cried out and James gasped when Jace shoved Kendall out of the way. With the hand not grasping the gun, Jace reached out and snatched James's forearm.

"Stay there," Rodney warned to Logan and Kendall.

Kendall wasn't sure whether to stay standing in front of Logan, or go after James. He figured if Rodney was so concerned about what Chris would do if a member of the band was killed, then Rodney wouldn't shoot.

James was tugged several feet before Jace finally released him with a violent shove. "Get on your knees," he ordered, pointing the gun.

James did as he was told, visibly pallid and trembling.

Kendall broke out into a wild panic. His mind was a jumbled mess, unable to focus on anything other than keeping his friends safe. He impulsively lunged forward and threw himself beside James. Kendall's mouth began to run automatically, too frantic and desperate to think to do anything else. "No, don't!" he pleaded to Jace. "Don't hurt him. Please."

"You," Rodney barked at Logan, "get down."

Logan immediately dropped to his knees and crawled behind Kendall and James. One hand reached out to clutch James's arm, the other curled around a fistful of Kendall's shirt to hold him back.

Jace glowered at Kendall while wiping more blood from his face. "You want to take his place?"

"Yes," Kendall said, quickly. "I don't care. Just please, please don't hurt him. Please."

"Kendall, don't," James murmured.

Kendall ignored him. He seized a handful of James's sweater and yanked. James's body was thrust behind Kendall's, who once again spread his arms out protectively. Logan lost his grip on the blond as he reached out to prevent James from falling over.

"Listen to me, listen. This was all my idea." Kendall's voice shook so unevenly with fear that he wondered if he could even be understood. His pulse was so fast he felt faint.

"I was the one who got loose and untied them all. I came up with the idea to attack, not them. They haven't done anything. If you're going to shoot anyone, shoot me, okay? Not them. _Please _don't hurt them."

"That's great, kid, but you know what I think?" said Jace. He placed his finger on the trigger. "I think punishment is the only way for you punks to realize we are not to be messed with."

"Chris said not to kill them," Rodney reminded. He himself had lowered his gun to his side to observe the sight before him.

"Chris won't care." Jace nodded over his shoulder at the closed door. "He's going to get rid of them anyway once he's done in there. I'll be saving him some work."

Kendall trembled intensely. Every ache and pain he felt on his body was numbed by a wave of adrenaline. He kept himself positioned in front of his two friends, hoping James had enough sense to duck low behind him.

"Kendall, stop it. Don't do this," James whispered. Then Logan whimpered, and there was another tug at the back of his shirt.

He stared at the barrel of Jace's gun, which seemed to be trained on the spot right between his eyes. Kendall shuddered and braced for the bullet. He heard the click of the gun as it was cocked.

Then, a dark blur cut through the air. Jace cried out in alarm, nearly dropping his gun when his hand raced to cradle the back of his head.

Kendall blinked. A tennis shoe laid on the ground. Behind Jace, Carlos sat with one foot clad in only a sock.

"Jerk," Carlos muttered. He stuck out his tongue.

Tears of fright leapt to Kendall's eyes. His stomach sank to his feet as if he had ingested a thick ball of lead. Things couldn't have gone more wrong.

"What the hell?" Jace grumbled, peering down at the shoe on the floor. A vein on his forehead bulged, and he gritted his teeth.

"It was that one," Rodney reported, pointing to Carlos.

"You're mean," Carlos said.

"Wait, don't!" Kendall cried as Jace whipped around. "He has a concussion. He doesn't know what he's doing, he didn't mean—Hey! Leave him alone!"

Shouting out an obscene string of curses, Jace marched over to Carlos and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Carlos thrashed his body side to side in attempts to throw Jace off, but it was no use.

James and Logan both pleaded for Jace to stop, but the man continued on, dragging Carlos effortlessly behind him. The Latino grabbed at his collar to relieve some pressure from his windpipe. He screamed and kicked his legs, but Jace still didn't listen.

"That's it!" he roared. He grunted and heaved Carlos towards the other boys. Logan was quick to wrap his arms around Carlos and keep the dazed boy close to his side.

"I am sick of this! Do you know what I'm going to do?" Jace aimed the gun at James. "First, I'm going to kill you." He moved the weapon to Carlos. "Then, I'm going to kill you." He shifted to Logan. "And then I'm going to kill you. And once your blood is splattered all over the floor, I'm going to kill you." Lastly, he pointed the pistol at Kendall.

"No!" shouted Kendall, throat burning. "No, please, you wanted me, remember? They're not supposed to be here! Please, _please _don't hurt them! You can't! Please!"

"Shut up."

"I'll do anything you want, I swear. Or shoot me. Shoot me instead of them. I don't care what you do to me, just _please _don't hurt them!"

"I said shut _up_."

Jace noticeably squeezed the gun tighter. His shoulders rose and fell quickly, and his face was flushed red in anger. But there was hesitation. He was afraid of something.

The door opening made everyone jump.

Chris stalked through the doorway. Shadows covered his face, but the bright bloodstains on his hands and t-shirt were impossible to miss. The moment he entered the room, all noise ceased except for the heavy breathing of the four terrified boys in the center of the room.

Kendall straightened his posture, hoping it would help block his friends. The sight of Chris had a whole new fear pumping through his veins. It was suddenly much more difficult to take in oxygen.

_See, I have what I want. I don't need you anymore._

He could still feel Chris's hot breath whispering across his ear. Kendall remembered how Chris had stood right behind him, out of sight, and spoke in a voice slick and cold. He remembered the flash in the man's eyes and the ghost-like way he moved, as if his feet never touched the ground.

_I don't need you anymore._

Kendall couldn't help it; a sob of terror tore from his throat.

Chris sounded eerily calm. "What's going on?"

"They got loose somehow and attacked us," Jace growled. He rubbed his sore head. "You gotta take this kid out of here before I shoot him, because I swear to God if he keeps talking I'm gonna lose my cool." He gestured to Kendall.

Without a word, Chris glided across the floor and started toward Kendall. His eyes were dark and hollow. Unblinking.

"No!" James yelled, grabbing Kendall's arm. "You can't take him!"

Kendall's heart threatened to stop with each step Chris took. The man stared directly at Kendall as he advanced, his expression blank and unreadable.

"Kendall, no, please," Logan sobbed, and he too seized an arm.

"Ken'all's leaving?" Carlos asked. He tugged on Kendall's shirt. "You're leaving?"

He took a chance and turned his head to face his friends. James gripped Kendall's forearm tightly, eyes wide and chest heaving. Logan shivered violently and strengthened his hold on Carlos, whose innocent eyes sparkled with tears.

"Leaving?" he said again.

Kendall nodded slowly. "Sorry, Carlos," he whispered. "But I think I am."

A bloody fist wadded around a large tuft of his hair. Kendall hissed in pain as his head was yanked back. James and Logan screamed and tried to hang on, but Kendall was torn away.

Kendall struggled to get on his feet as Chris pulled him up and began the walk back to the door. Chris's grip was relentless. Kendall figured if he didn't follow, all the hair would be ripped from his scalp.

"C'mon," Chris muttered, tugging harder.

Kendall gasped and stumbled, one foot barely making it in front of the other before he tripped again and was dragged along. The desperate screams and cries from his friends echoed off the walls and etched their way into Kendall's mind forever.

Chris shoved Kendall through the doorway, finally releasing his grip on Kendall's hair. Kendall lost his footing and fell hard on his hands and knees. Pain shot up his arms and caused them to crumple under his weight.

Groaning, Kendall managed to lift his head and peer over his shoulder before Chris entered. Jace still had the barrel of the weapon trained on James.

The door slammed shut.

Then, Kendall heard a gunshot.


	18. Frostbite

**A/N: Argh, sorry about the wait! Especially after that cliffhanger last chapter. But I have good news, and that is that Chapter 19 is almost finished already :D So I should get it to my beta (the fantastic Mizz Nikki) within the next few days if everything goes well. Look for another update soon! And of course, thank you all for reading and reviewing and being patient. I really appreciate it. This chapter is kind of short, and honestly, it's not my favorite. But hopefully you guys like it :)**

**Warnings: Angst, some violence.**

* * *

Chapter 18  
Frostbite

Death was a funny thing.

Kendall imagined the loss of a close friend would be much more agonizing. He waited for the world to shatter beneath his feet, for his throat to swell until he choked on his own guilt. If anything, he expected to _feel_. Kendall wondered why he wasn't at least crying or mourning the untimely death of a person he considered a brother. He wondered why he was still able to breathe, still able to take in oxygen in a calm, steady pace like nothing was wrong.

Instead, he didn't really feel a thing aside from a rough hand clamping callously around his wrist.

Maybe it had happened too fast. Chris stepping into the dim hall. The shadows flickering like ominous warnings. The door slamming shut. The gunshot. The echoes. Maybe Kendall's mind had yet to comprehend what had happened.

Hah. No, that couldn't be it.

Because he knew. He could say it in his head. Heck, if he could manage to make his mouth move, let alone form words, he could say it aloud.

James was dead.

Yeah, Kendall knew. Now he was just waiting for something else to happen.

Like the bite of an unrelenting pit bull, the tight fingers never broke free, didn't even falter. Chris cursed a foul word and tugged Kendall to his feet.

Kendall didn't struggle. But when he managed to stand, his body felt heavy and compressed, as if all his organs had coalesced into a thick ball and rested in the pit of where his stomach should be. It was a enervating, almost nauseating sensation that caused his skin to pale.

He stared at the closed door before him. It was a column of ebony darkness, with a dull glow of light shining from the crack at the bottom. He knew what was on the other side: Jace, standing with a smug smirk curving his lips, the barrel of the freshly fired gun sending wisps of smoke into the air. James, laying motionlessly as the blood pooled around his head and reddened that ridiculous sweater. Carlos and Logan, watching and screaming and probably the next to be shot, wondering where Kendall was, why he wasn't saving them…

Kendall's insides clenched a little tighter.

Chris gave Kendall's arm a fierce yank, causing the teen to blink and stumble backwards. He was allowed no time to regain his footing. Before the movement even registered in his brain he was forced along, limping and tripping and falling through the poorly lit hall with Chris hollering jumbled obscenities the entire way.

Kendall's breath hitched in his throat. He couldn't scream. His legs were on autopilot, somehow moving along with Chris. The panic was all gone; it had vanished with the last rings of the gunshot. But Chris was frantic. His mouth spewed curses and other various shouts of exclamation, urging Kendall to move faster, hurry up, don't stop.

A fist curled around his hair and pulled, hard; apparently Kendall was too slow for Chris's liking. His head jerked sideways, fixated gaze finally breaking from the closed door. The only prevention Kendall had from collapsing to the floor were the rough fingers coiled tightly around the roots of his disheveled locks. He hadn't the faintest idea where the man was leading him. Chris was speaking, rapidly barking orders with a panicked edge in his voice. But Kendall couldn't hear a thing. The words were diluted and muffled, just low buzzes in his ears.

He suddenly felt cold. Really, really cold.

Ice was growing in his heart, pumping through his veins and giving frostbite to the mass of organs pulsating in his core. Every Minnesotan was familiar with frostbite; how it began as a burning, painful feeling, then diminished to an irritable tingling before turning numb completely.

The pain started when the sunlight hit his face.

Kendall was too disoriented to realize he had been pulled to another door—a door leading outside—until the warmth bathed his body. His shoes scraped loudly over parking lot pavement as he once again lost his balance. This time when Chris tugged Kendall's hair and swore, Kendall was keenly aware of his surroundings.

The sun was blindingly bright. Colors flashed and danced before his eyes every time he attempted to blink away the feeling of his pupils shrinking practically to pinpricks. He thawed on the outside; his wounds began to throb, his cuts began to bleed, and every hair being ripped from his scalp hurt like a needle stab. His arms flailed uselessly to the sides as he fumbled sightlessly for something to help him, something to hold on to.

Kendall didn't grope long. An involuntary "Oof!" burst from his mouth as he was slammed against the side of a vehicle. He knew it was a car because the moment he made contact with the door, Chris's startling voice became perfectly clear.

"Get in!"

There was no more dreary garble filling Kendall's ears, no more dreamlike haze of noises and blurs. Everything was real.

"James! James! No, guys, no! _James_!"

Huh. So maybe he was screaming after all.

But Kendall wasn't the only one. The sun was too powerful for his eyes to open fully, so through the tiny slits of his eyelids, Kendall watched as Chris reached over with one hand and threw open a car door. "I said, _get in the car_!

He'd never heard a bellow so loud and vicious, not even from Gustavo on one of his bad days. Spittle flew from Chris's mouth as he shrieked the command. That combined with his red face and bared teeth made him look like some sort of rabid dog.

Kendall heard what the man had said. But there were too many overwhelming sounds for him to grasp—his own screams, the warm wind gusting in his ears, the car's rumbling engine, his heartbeat.

More things happened. Chris shouted. Kendall's wounded arm was seized; fingernails dug into the bloody gash. He didn't feel it. His skin tingled as the sensation of pain began to fizzle away. It was leaving as fast as it had come.

His eyes shut tight. For a moment Kendall wondered if he was on a rollercoaster. He rolled over, flipped upside down, had the air rush from his lungs. Something grabbed at his ankles, pushed him. Then, _bang_!

A gunshot, was it a gunshot? Kendall's eyes snapped open.

No. He was inside the car, sprawled facedown across a cold row of seats.

A small part of his brain nagged at him, told him to pick up his head. Do something, get out, don't stay with Chris. At least look out the window, absorb the surroundings.

But James…

James was dead.

So what did it matter?

Another car door slammed; it shook the entire vehicle. Then a harsh jolt, tires squealing as the car tore out of the lot. A couple turns and hard jerks of the steering wheel that had Kendall nearly tossed from his seat and onto the floor. More expletives from Chris. More cold. More ice. More… something. Kendall wasn't exactly sure.

Maybe it was less of something. Less pain. Less feeling. Less vitality.

At least he'd stopped screaming.

* * *

Time was a funny thing.

The clamor in the room had been so noisy and chaotic that James didn't hear the loud thumps at the door in the corner of the room. No one did.

And he found it amazing what thoughts ran through a person's head between the split-second one door closed and another opened. Literally.

Carlos sat behind him clutching Logan, blubbering something incoherent that probably couldn't be understood even if his mind was functioning properly. James's heart ached in sympathy for his friend; he'd seen Carlos suffer plenty of concussions before. A school nurse back in Minnesota recommended to Mr. and Mrs. Garcia that their son schedule regular appointments with the counselor to discuss his self-destructive tendencies. But though Carlos was frequently concussed or limping, his injuries were certainly never purposefully inflicted. Unless the nurse counted flinging yourself from the roof of your garage with an umbrella because you wanted to imitate a cartoon character you saw on TV as 'self-destructive.' But come on. Carlos just needed a little help understanding the laws of gravity. Either that, or a chill pill.

In any case, Carlos was always smiling, always full of energy and ready to bounce into anything that promised a little fun. And no matter how badly Carlos managed to hurt himself, he always stood and brushed it off like it was nothing. Even when his scalp had been gushing blood and he was covered in scrapes and bruises, he'd managed to get to his feet, offer one of his lopsided grins and say, "That was fun," before collapsing unconscious and waking twelve hours later in a hospital bed with a metal plate in his head.

But this time, things were different. Carlos seemed to be constantly conscious, which was a good sign, but he was hopelessly dazed and confused, seemingly only concerned with his friends leaving him and the fact that his head hurt.

James was more than a little worried. And if he was frightened, then Logan must be terrified, because Logan had much more medical knowledge than James could ever hope to possess.

James wasn't sure if Logan was attempting to shield Carlos in his helpless state or was simply hanging onto him because he needed someone to be there. But despite what was possibly a protective gesture, Logan couldn't stop screaming Kendall's name. James heard every shout, every whimper and plead spilling from Logan's mouth, begging Chris to stop. Even as the mysterious door had slammed shut, Kendall disappearing behind it, Logan continued to shriek as if it would bring Kendall back—as if Chris would have a sudden change of heart and say, "Sure, pal. Here you go," and they'd forget this whole ordeal ever happened, go out for pink smoothies and have a mushy group hug like a gaggle of teenage girls in those chick-flicks Katie rented solely to mock and James claimed to despise but secretly watched when no one else was home.

Yeah. If only.

But as worried as James was about Carlos's health and Logan's desperation, it was Kendall who concerned him the most. James had never before seen fear in his friend's eyes. Intimidation, sure. But Kendall was wary of people, not afraid of them.

Chris was different. Kendall was truly petrified in the face of the enemy. And James wasn't sure he wanted to know why.

He refused to watch as Kendall was snatched and dragged across the room, but the sounds, the screams, all the commotion… It was enough to paint a clear picture in his mind.

James focused on the barrel of Jace's gun, which was trained just inches from his face. Hot drops of sweat ran down the sides of his face. His sweater clung wetly to his back and chest. For crying out loud, he was _James Diamond_. He couldn't be killed now, not when he was about to achieve superstardom. He had fans—fan clubs, fan mail, fan girls. If he was going to die, he expected it to be falling off a stage and breaking his neck, or at least mauled in a mosh pit; not getting popped off in an abandoned warehouse by some spiky-haired guy having a temper tantrum. Because, really, who spiked their hair like that anymore? It was _so _two years ago.

But, it was what it was. James was about to die while Kendall was dragged off somewhere and either tortured or executed or both, while Gustavo most likely underwent the same mistreatment (if he was even still alive), and Logan and Carlos watched James get shot and continued to live their lives minus two best friends. Either that or they'd soon be joining him in the afterlife.

Huh.

James figured he was handling the situation pretty well. With the way he was sorting out his thoughts and accepting inevitabilities, he figured he should be a therapist. Yeah. Therapists were paid big bucks, and all they had to do was sit in a chair and ask, "So how does that make you feel?" and maybe hold up a few inkblots or two. Then again, therapists didn't get much recognition for their good deeds. James practically lived off attention.

Yeah, time was sure a funny thing.

In all of one second he'd managed to evaluate his current situation, reminisce about the old days, and picture himself talking to patients on the couch. Maybe he was traumatized. Wait, did traumatized people know when they were traumatized? Or was traumatization so traumatic that people who were traumatized couldn't even fathom that they were in fact traumatized?

Quite frankly, James assumed he was too frightened to even be frightened anymore.

He couldn't remove his eyes from the pistol before him. He waited expectantly for the bullet. After all, Jace did say James was going to be the first to go, all because he whacked the guy with that stupid board. In retrospect, it was a really dumb escape plan. But Kendall always had the best ideas and never gave the guys a reason not to trust him in the past. And just because he had been tied to a chair for two days and was probably a little on the whacky side didn't exactly change that notion.

So James didn't watch as Kendall was shoved through the mysterious door with Chris following behind. His imagination filled in the blanks. He could picture Kendall—bruised, beaten, and with that foreign expression of terror on his face, being led through the doorway. It slammed shut like the snap of a jaw, swallowing Kendall whole.

He braced for the pull of the trigger.

But fate had other plans.

The second door, the one which had dashed Big Time Rush's previous chance of escape, suddenly flew open with such force it bounced off the wall. Splinters and jagged spikes of wood exploded into the air. The noise was just as loud and booming as a clap of thunder.

The uniformed officers burst into the room with their weapons raised. An older man entered first, immediately dropping to one knee and firing a single shot. James jumped as the bullet tore through Jace's shoulder and sent him sprawling on his back. The gun clattered to the concrete.

James's jaw fell slack as the startling events before him unfolded. Every numbed sensation revived at the sight of Jace writhing on the ground. His chest tightened and goose bumps broke out across his skin. Every sense was heightened to the point where he feared his eardrums would burst and his stomach would expel its contents. The nausea he experienced was white hot and appeared out of no where, just like the voices and cries that invaded his ears.

"Don't move!"

"Stop!"

"On the ground, on the ground!"

"Get the EMTs!"

Two more officers were in the room. A young man with close-cropped dark hair and a brunette woman had their weapons pointed at Rodney. The officer who had fired at Jace had somehow seized the fallen pistol and squatted to the ground in the fraction of a second it took for James to blink.

His mind slowly came into focus, the sudden rush of adrenaline and realization thawing everything frozen by shock.

Logan's hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him back, bringing the three boys closer together and James farther away from Jace. One officer continued to shout at Rodney, threatening to fire unless he dropped his weapon. The big man held his hands up in surrender, then cautiously bent his knees. He carefully placed his pistol on the concrete and kicked it over with his foot. The weapon skidded past James's knees. Logan tugged him back further.

"Tell them to hurry, tell them to hurry," Carlos chanted.

Logan squeezed Carlos tighter, not bothering to ask what he meant. His hand curled around James's forearm and stayed there.

But James couldn't move. Curse words were erupting from mouths, painful cries emitted from Jace as blood gushed from his wounded shoulder, handcuffs clacked as they latched around wrists. Rodney was quick to be led out of the room by the young officer and another middle-aged man who James hadn't noticed.

The older guy kneeling by Jace called out something else about getting an EMT, but James only focused on the woman tentatively approaching. "It's okay, boys," she said with a gentle and motherly voice. "You're safe now." The plate above her breast pocket said her name was Stark.

"Tell them to hurry," Carlos murmured.

James felt tears prick at his eyes. His heart was so far up his throat it hammered against his tonsils. "You have to get Kendall."

His voice was too soft for Officer Stark to hear. She inclined forward, narrowing her eyes in sympathy. "What was that?"

"You have to get Kendall," he repeated with quiet desperation.

"I'm sorry, I can't understand—"

"_You have to get Kendall_!" The words exploded from his mouth as pure panic took over. He scrambled to his feet, breaking free of Logan's grip. "They took him! They took him through there with Gustavo! He can't go with them! He can't!"

Stark caught James by his shoulders, her surprisingly strong arms holding him back. James gritted his teeth as strange sounds tore from his throat. He brought up his elbows in attempts to fight the officer away, but she was stubbornly persistent. "They'll get him," she bellowed over his shouts. "James, they will get him."

He didn't wonder how she knew his name. Stark didn't let go as James's muscles relaxed and he stopped thrashing. The door which Chris and Kendall had disappeared behind was wide open, letting James know there were already officers searching inside. He could see little through the dark passage except for walls painted gunmetal gray.

Then, a figure. Two more. Three bodies moving through the shadows.

James held his breath, waiting for the officers to emerge with Kendall. But when the three people stepped into the light, James's legs turned frail and buckled under his own weight. Even Officer Stark couldn't keep him from a heavy landing on his knees.

Because the two officers appeared with a bruised and limping Gustavo wedged between them.

_Only _Gustavo.

"No, no, he has to be there," James told Stark. "He has to be there. I won't leave without him. We can't… we can't leave without him…" His voice trailed off. Stark began to talk to him, speaking assurances, telling him they'd do everything they could.

James didn't hear a word. The only sound in his ears was the wail of the ambulance outside.

* * *

Kendall was numb. Completely and utterly numb.

He felt _nothing_.

The pulsing headache that had previously weighed down his head was gone. The sharp burning caused by the ropes digging into his flesh had long since dissipated. His stomach, still nearly empty, stilled its incessant rumbling. Even the dryness in his throat was ignored.

Chris was driving silently; Kendall forgot he was there. He wasn't sure how long they'd been on the road, but the ride had smoothened and let him know Chris was at least following the speed limit. By now they were blended safely into the collage of vehicles on the road. No one was looking for them. No one suspected a thing.

Kendall's thoughts, once racing with fears and concerns and regrets, had cleared away. Damp, grimy blond hair stuck to the seat of the car. Blood and copious amounts of sweat glued the side of his face to the cool leather. His leaden eyes were half open, focused unblinkingly on the space in front of him. Even the heart thumping in his chest had calmed from its rapid pace, beating slowly and steadily. It was the only sensation of which he was conscious. The rhythmic thuds reminded him he was still alive.

And James was not.


	19. Wishful Thinking

**A/N: This chapter gets a little... raw, I guess, as it delves into everything Kendall is feeling at the moment. The next chapter will clear up a lot of questions, so look out for that. As always, thank you for reading and please continue to review and leave me some feedback! Thanks to Mizz Nikki yet again for being my beta. :)**

**Warnings: Angst, references to violence.**

* * *

Chapter 19  
Wishful Thinking

Kendall wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep. The first spark of feeling returned after his weary eyes cracked open. His numbness trickled away to reveal a hollow, gaping hole in his heart. But at least he could feel the emptiness.

As his exhausted body came back into consciousness, the first thing to dawn upon him was his location. The question of if he should have woke in the warehouse tied to the chair or at home in his own bed quickly scrolled through his mind and vanished. It took several moments of rapid blinking and examining dove-gray seats for Kendall to remember he was sprawled across the backseat of Chris's car. His arms were hugged protectively to his chest, and his long legs were bent at the knee. It was a position which made him appear weak and defeated, a position which implied he was closing himself off to the world and retreating to some deep recess of his mind that was void of remorse.

Posture could reveal a lot about a person.

The next thing to strike Kendall's mind was his hunger. His stomach growled angrily before doing a flip. It was almost painful. No, it _was_ painful. His first movement, his first break from his inert state was clutching his hands to his abdomen. He almost let a groan slip from his mouth, but managed to bite it back. His throat was too dry to make much sound, anyway. The thirst was more frustrating than it was painful. It was a constant nag that he felt every second, not just when he swallowed or attempted to speak.

The rustle of his clothes or the crunch of the leather must have given him away, because suddenly Chris's voice was disrupting the silence in the car. "Don't sit up."

The backs of Kendall's eyes began to burn. He didn't need to be told to stay down. What reason did he possibly have to sit up? Mom and Katie back home? Yeah, right. He wasn't about to fight to reunite with his family when he was the reason James was…

Kendall squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled shakily.

And what about Carlos and Logan? He didn't even want to imagine what had happened to them. If they were somehow alive, then they had just witnessed their best friend get shot and were probably tied up in chairs like Kendall had been. If they were not alive, then they'd still seen James die, but at least didn't have to go through any more torture.

Kendall slowly lifted his gaze. From his angle he could see Chris's light blond hair poking up from above the front seat. He wanted to scream at the man, demand to know _why_. Why _him_? Why _his_ friends? James, Logan and Carlos didn't do a thing. They had tried to save Kendall, because they knew he wouldn't just run away like some selfish, angst-ridden teen; they knew Kendall well enough to guess he was in trouble. They'd stolen Mrs. Knight's car, drove without a license through parts of the state they had never traveled, following a piece of paper that was found by luck and had probably been put into Kendall's envelope of instructions by mistake.

A mistake. They had found Kendall by _mistake_.

Kendall would do anything for his friends. He had willingly handed himself over to dangerous men who could have been not only kidnappers, but murderers or traffickers or worse, all because the threats against his friends had a sliver of a chance of being true. He didn't regret that.

What he did regret was being too foolish, too blind to realize that his friends would do anything to protect _him_. And now they were probably dead because of him. Because he had went and tried to play hero and completely ignored any repercussions.

Gustavo always referred to Kendall as the leader of the band. When Kendall really thought about it, he realized he _was _usually the one to come up with a plan and lead his friends through whatever troubles they faced. Maybe James defied him sometimes, maybe Logan was hesitant to join one of Kendall's schemes, and maybe Carlos occasionally decided that he just wasn't going to listen. But no matter the situation, Kendall was the smooth-talker, the one who could charm his way out of trouble, the one who knew when to keep order and when not to intervene with the petty disputes the guys often had with each other.

They believed in him. They trusted him. And he let them down.

He'd gotten them killed.

Up front, Kendall heard Chris flip on his blinker. The car began to slow, and Kendall figured wherever their destination was, they were close.

Nothing made sense. It did when he believed Rodney, Jace and Chris were using him to get to Gustavo in the same way Kendall's friends were used against him. But now Gustavo—dead or alive, Kendall wasn't sure—had been left at the warehouse with James, dead, and Carlos and Logan, probably dead. Why wasn't Kendall killed, too? Why was he unfortunate enough to be forced into the back of a car and travel with Chris?

And more importantly, what was Kendall going to _do_?

Attempting escape didn't seem like such a good idea. For one thing, even if the car slowed down enough for him to make a safe leap out the door, he was too fatigued and in too much pain to run, let alone scream loud enough to flag down help. Secondly, there was a chance, albeit a small one, that Carlos and Logan were still alive, and if they were, Chris was possibly bringing Kendall to them. Perhaps after Kendall had been taken in the car, Rodney and Jace had done the same to the remaining members of BTR. Maybe they were all going to meet up in a different location.

It was wishful thinking, but he didn't exactly have another reason to keep fighting. He needed _something_, some sort of hope to get him through this, no matter how farfetched it seemed.

But… did he even _want_ to get through this?

The car was moving slow. Slow enough for Kendall to make the escape he didn't plan on making. Instead he remained still, feeling the vehicle swing into what he presumed was a parking space and listening as the rumbling engine was finally cut.

Chris turned around. His voice was like oil. "This is our only pit stop. No one else is here. If someone comes, I know you're not going to try anything, because if you do, you are going to be dropped where you stand. Understand?"

It was the weakest threat Chris could have made.

Either way, Kendall didn't care. Pit stop? Whatever. Ordinary citizens who could help him possibly showing up? Didn't matter. He wasn't about to go anywhere.

Chris threw open his door, exited, then slammed it shut. For all of one second Kendall was alone in utter, blissful silence. Which was almost ironic in a way, because back in the warehouse he detested the quietness. Now, he welcomed it.

His own door was pulled open. Sunlight warmed the crown of his head, and it hurt. Everything hurt. Slowly Kendall lifted his head. His cheek stuck to the seat and made a wet sucking sound as he peeled it away. Tentatively, Kendall raised a hand and touched his fingers to his face. Huh. So he had been crying after all.

"Move. Now," Chris muttered impatiently.

Complying solely because his autopilot switch seemed to be flipped on, Kendall struggled to sit upright. Muscles screamed, scabs broke, bones popped. For a moment he wondered if he could even get out of the car. He hissed from behind his gritted teeth, finally tossing a leg out the side of the car. Squinting against the harsh afternoon sun, Kendall saw Chris's head turning every direction in search of witnesses. Kendall didn't blame the man. He reached out and grabbed the door of the car to keep himself steady as he pulled himself to his feet.

Oh, man, he couldn't do this.

He grunted as he crumpled to the ground. The pavement was warm against his skin, even when it scraped against his knees and knuckles.

But there was no time to bask in the comforting warmth of the sun. Chris seized Kendall's arm and heaved him upright with surprising strength. As blood rushed to Kendall's head, he swayed on his feet and reached out to Chris as an aid. Hanging onto his captor because he was too weak to stand? He didn't care.

"Come on. Walk." Chris pulled free from Kendall and instead fisted a wad of his shirt.

Easier said than done. Wobbling, Kendall placed one foot in front of the other. Being in the dim, stuffy warehouse room for so long made his eyes sensitive to the sudden light of the outdoors. Before he lowered his gaze, Kendall took a quick note of their location. They were in a small parking lot, Chris's car the only vehicle in the vicinity. A brick building was ahead, a small sidewalk leading the way. Surrounding the structure were picnic tables and grass. Lots and lots of grass. A rest stop.

Even bad guys didn't have bladders of steel.

Chris, laconic as ever, prodded Kendall further. "Go."

As useless as his legs felt, Kendall forced them to move. It hurt like nothing he had ever felt before. And that was saying something, considering Kendall's pain tolerance was fairly high. He was a hockey player. He'd suffered through plenty of black eyes and broken noses and bruises the size of a fist. All the guys had.

But could James tolerate a bullet in the face?

It was all Kendall thought about as he limped over the curb and onto the sidewalk. Why didn't Jace shoot him instead? He'd asked for it. He'd begged the man to do it, and for precisely this reason. He couldn't handle losing one of his friends.

Now? They all could be dead.

Whose fault? His.

Why? He was an idiot.

James was dead and Logan, Carlos and Gustavo were in mortal danger because Kendall was an idiot.

The restrooms were on either side of the small building. Kendall trekked slowly with Chris to the left. The man yanked open the door and ushered Kendall inside, not bothering to first scope out the room. Kendall wasn't sure if he was cocky or just careless.

The place was about how he expected a rest stop bathroom to look. The walls, probably white at one point, were tinted an unnatural yellow. The floor was littered with balled paper towels, and several stalls had doors hanging from loose hinges. Whoever handled the maintenance on the place seemed to be slacking.

Chris turned to him and gave a glare. Kendall knew the look was a warning. He also knew Chris was aware of the fact Kendall had no intentions of going anywhere. And Kendall was just fine with that knowledge. Even so, the look on the man's face was nearly as frightening as his voice.

Not wanting to do his business in a urinal beside Chris, Kendall stumbled into the nearest stall. His moist palms reached out to the dirty, graffiti-daubed walls to steady himself. Taking a deep breath to relax his suddenly jittery nerves, Kendall rotated around in the cramped perimeter, sliding the lock until it audibly clicked. His heart fluttered in his chest, feeling heavier and closer to crawling up his throat with each distressing pump. Slowly and with trembling hands, he unclasped his belt and pulled his jeans down. He noticed with dismay the diminutive amount of urine he produced was brown.

A small, pathetic whimper of alarm escaped his lips, and he finished up quickly, finding it easier to work the button and zipper on his pants than it had been when he was forced to relieve himself in the five gallon bucket back at the warehouse.

Kendall became aware he had broken out into a hot, panicky sweat, so he ran the back of his hand over his clammy forehead, grimacing at the slick feeling. His legs were wobbling again, so he decided to flush the toilet and push the door open before he collapsed. He shuffled out as his inhales became sharper. Immediately he spotted the row of sinks against the opposite wall of the room. Quickening his pace, Kendall momentarily forgot about Chris and staggered up against the counter. His hands slammed against the cold soapstone as he fell to his knees. A breathy gasp left Kendall's mouth when he reached up to fumble for the knob on the sink. When the icy water began to cascade from the faucet, a pang of emotion flared in his chest, adding onto the intense feelings already engulfing his heart.

Using every last bit of strength he still possessed, Kendall pulled himself upright, putting all his weight on his elbows in order to prop himself up. He leaned forward, involuntarily shivering when his warm, calloused fingers came into contact with the cool liquid. Suddenly fearful, Kendall whipped his head around to find Chris. Surprisingly, the captor stood guard by the bathroom door, and Kendall took this as his only chance to get something to drink.

He cupped his hands underneath the running water, wanting to feel it wash over his hands for a while longer. He shuddered again when he thought how wonderful it would feel to scrub his body clean of dirt and grime, to lather and cleanse himself with a soothing soap, to rinse away the cuts and the bruises and the feeling of Rodney's large hand gripping his arm and hip…

Eyes strangely dry, Kendall let out a sob. He lifted his hands to his chapped lips, drinking thirstily. The gratifying liquid slid down his rough throat, and he would have decided that this, _this_ moment was the most relief, the most contentment he had ever felt—until he accidentally glanced into the mirror.

Kendall gulped down another mouthful, feeling excess water trickle down his chin. It continued southward, rolling onto his neck, the pureness of the drop becoming marred with his sticky perspiration. He stared at himself longer than he knew he should, because at any moment Chris could decide to leave again and Kendall would be back to not knowing when he would be granted something to drink. But the sight of his reflection nearly caused his burdened heart to stop. He hardly recognized himself.

His hair; the fluorescent lighting making his greasy locks glow slickly, right side matted with crusty, black blood, front caked down to his forehead with dried sweat. The skin on his face; taut and swollen, some areas angrily dappled with purpled marks, others red and scabbed over. Never breaking his eyes away from that of his reflection's, Kendall brought more water into his mouth. He downed the handful in one large swallow, watching as stray drops leaked onto the front of his shirt. His plaid shirt; sliced open on one sleeve, red stains dotting along the entire gash. Other discolored patches had accumulated on his front, from blood and saliva splaying from his mouth with every one of Jace's forceful blows.

Kendall squeezed his eyes shut, sobbing once more. His darkened green orbs stung with tears he had previously repressed, and he inwardly cursed at himself for acting so weak in front of Chris.

Because he _did_ care.

The faucet still running and Kendall still letting out awkward gasps and cries, he bowed his head and sucked in more mouthfuls of glorious liquid, guilty sensations stabbing through him for a reason he could not quite understand. Tears were making a clean path down his flushed cheeks as he continued to drink from the sink. The water suddenly tasted brackish, and he hated it. He hated it so much.

"Guys," Kendall blubbered. He hiccupped when he tried to stifle another onslaught of sobs. This time when he brought up his hands, he rubbed them over his sore eyes. He did it slowly at first, allowing a few more tears to fall and a few more whimpers to come out. Then Kendall scrubbed his entire palm over his face, clearing away the tears, the blood, the sweat, the everything. It hurt bad, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on, because the pain he felt physically was nothing compared to the anguish eating inside of him.

"James," Kendall sobbed, sputtering water onto the glass in front of him. "James, I-I'm so sorry…" He furiously rubbed the water over his face again and again, knowing he would only find pleasure if his skin peeled off. He finally abandoned his attempts for a moment to drink some more, water splashing down onto his shirt and streaming onto the floor. The drops that landed in the clean, white basin were rusty reddish-brown, and it make his insides twist.

Kendall lurched forward, an unexpected tremor crashing through his stomach. He positioned himself over the sink and retched, expelling a clear liquid of which he could only assume was the water he had just ingested. His stomach heaved a second time, though nothing but a sickly green globule of bile came out. He spat into the sink, then rinsed from the tap to wash away the acrid taste left on his tongue.

Still feeling like a powerless, submissive slave, Kendall forced himself to take a few more drinks, and did his best to push away his pitiful crying. His arms shook and quivered, knees weak and unsteady.

"Alright, kid, that's long enough. Let's go."

"No," Kendall growled. He whipped around, gritting his teeth so tightly that his jaw ached. "No. Give me another minute." It was a demand, not a plea. He knew it was dangerous to talk like that to Chris, but he was just so sick of being controlled and so sick of that man taking everything from him. He would have this.

Chris heaved a sigh and glanced down at his watch, still maintaining his post by the door. Kendall sniffled and faced the mirror for a second time, seeing fresh smears of blood around his nose and chin from where he had vigorously scoured his flesh. He leaned down over the running faucet yet again, splashing the chilled water gently across his face. He sucked in the water that fell across his lips, alleviating the gnawing tickles in his thick throat.

From growing up with Logan, Kendall knew that he should slow down. He was no doubt dehydrated, and chugging down handful after handful of water all in a short amount of time would not be easy on his stomach. Not wanting to vomit again, he made the painful decision to shut off the knob. He stared at himself in the mirror once more, watching as water dripped from the ends of his hair and off the tip of his nose. For the briefest of seconds, Kendall was reminded of home. Of early mornings, waiting in line to use the bathroom, knowing that beyond the closed door James was blow-drying his hair, which, of course, took forever for him to get styled to perfection, even though he went through the exact same motions every day.

Then he thought of Carlos, and how he would be sitting at the table chomping on a big bowl of cereal, and Katie, who would be sitting beside him with a stopwatch and urging Carlos to beat his record of fifty-two seconds. And Logan would be watching the whole thing in amusement while getting antacid tablets on hand for the Latino.

Kendall's fingers trembled, and with a shaky breath he reached to the side and ripped off a paper towel from the nearby dispenser. He ran the rough sheet across his swollen and throbbing face, dabbing it dry. He took extra care of his forehead, pushing back his stringy, sandy hair. His head felt lighter.

"That's enough. We need to move," Chris decided. "Get over here."

This time, Kendall was obedient. He tossed the soiled towel into the trashcan beside the sink, clearing his throat noisily. He was still thirsty.

Chris held the door open for Kendall, who avoided his eyes. As soon as Kendall exited the restroom, a soft breeze caressed his face, cooling and refreshing his inflamed skin. He closed his eyes and stopped walking. The brief moment of solace he experienced was interrupted with thoughts of James.

James.

Gone. Forever. Never coming back.

Dead.

And it was Kendall's fault. James's body was lying on the concrete of a stuffy hellhole with a bullet wedged in his skull and blood pooling around his perfect hair.

Wait. No. That couldn't happen, because James always took such fastidious care of his hair. It couldn't be all mussed up and overlaid with blood. James wouldn't like that. He would hate it.

A hard jab to his middle back snapped Kendall out of his thoughts. "Keep going," Chris said, giving Kendall another shove forward.

Paroxysms of hatred boiled in an instant. Kendall twirled around, crying out and snatching a firm hold of Chris's collar. Grunting, Kendall swung the man around and pinned his back against the brick wall. Chris didn't seem surprised or at all concerned, staring into Kendall's flashing green eyes with a fairly nonchalant expression.

"James," Kendall sneered, voice laced with piercing, icy venom. "You murdered my best friend." He tightened his grip, shaking with a livid rage that would render a demon envious. "You _killed_ him!"

Chris didn't even flinch. It was really Jace who had pulled the trigger, but as far as Kendall was concerned, Chris was just as responsible. "I promise you," Kendall hissed through clenched teeth, "I _promise_, if I find out something happened to Carlos or Logan, _you're_ going to be the one in trouble. By me." His nose nearly touched Chris's, and if he had the strength he would have beat that look off the man's face.

Then, in a sudden, swift movement, Chris was bringing a hand up and turning the tables on Kendall completely. Kendall had zero time to react as his body was yanked to the side and Chris was leaning onto Kendall, trapping him against the hard wall.

"And I promise _you_," Chris said, "that if you ever touch me again," he lifted the tail of his shirt to reveal a pistol held by the waistline of his jeans, "you're not going to get the chance."

Kendall laughed bitterly. "Do you think I care about that anymore?"

Chris's face reddened in anger. With a guttural growl he snatched hold of the weapon and jabbed the barrel under Kendall's chin, causing the blond to let out a startled gasp. The cold metal pressing stiffly against his throat had Kendall fighting for breath.

"Then how about I end it right now?" Chris spat.

Kendall gasped again, standing on his tiptoes in efforts to ease the pressure on his windpipe. "Go… ahead," he challenged.

But Chris wouldn't do it. Kendall was positive. The man wouldn't have taken him from the warehouse and went through such lengths to keep Kendall alive if intentions were to kill him. No, Kendall wasn't going to die. Not yet, anyway.

The two locked stares for a moment, Kendall taking the time to examine his captor's eyes. They were hard and cold. Calculating. Strategizing. Like tiny balls of steel embedded into his skull.

Chris gave the muzzle of the gun a final push into Kendall's throat, making Kendall gag, then pulled away and stuffed the weapon back in its hiding place. As Kendall coughed and sucked in air, Chris tugged Kendall away from the wall. Since Kendall's eyes had a chance to adjust to the light, he could see the rest stop was placed atop a hill; beyond a line of evergreens in the distance was the interstate, loud with rushing cars.

Kendall allowed himself to be led back to the vehicle, the resentment still simmering within him. But he felt stronger. The water had replenished him, given him energy, if only briefly. His throat was still on the dry side, and it would be only a matter of hours before he was back to a rough voice and raw throat. Drinking seemed to have an effect on his stomach as well. Though it ached with hunger, the rumbling had temporarily ceased.

He still refused to ask Chris any questions, though his mind was brimming. What had happened to Carlos and Logan? Were they okay? How did Gustavo fit into the puzzle? And, the most perplexing thought: Why was Kendall dragged along with Chris while the others were left behind?

Chris waited for Kendall to open the car door and slip inside. Kendall was obedient. He used both hands to give the handle a tug, then slowly slid into the backseat. Without being instructed to do so, he laid on his side, tucking his knees to his chest. Chris slammed the door shut, then resumed his role as driver. The engine came to life, and Chris pulled out of the lot.

Kendall could only think of James and Carlos and Logan. He had to believe the latter two were alright. If he didn't believe that, then he had nothing to hold onto. He still had a reason to stay alive, a reason to stay with his captor. Chris had to know where Carlos and Logan were, and if he did, there was a chance Kendall could be reunited with them.

There was that wishful thinking again.

But Kendall didn't care. He really didn't.

He would find them. If it was the last thing he did, he would save them.


	20. Leverage

**A/N: Please bear with me on this annoyingly long author's note! Firstly, life has been pretty hectic lately. Between school and family and friends, I haven't had very much time to write this last month. Secondly, I apologize for how short this update is, considering you readers had to wait so long to get it! But there is good news. And that is the newest BTR episode gave me some new motivation to write. Another thing that helps: reviews. Thank you soooo much for all the feedback and comments you guys have been leaving me. It really does mean a lot. If you'd continue to leave your thoughts, I would be one very happy girl. :)**

**This is a pretty short and boring chapter. It was a struggle to write. The next chapter will be much more interesting though, I promise. If an answer seems unclear, it's probably because I'll explain more in a later chapter. And although I love 'Another Reason,' my mind has been wandering to other story ideas… so don't be surprised if a random oneshot appears between updates. If that does happen, don't think I forgot about AR. I will certainly finish this story… even if updates are a little slow XD Thank you for your patience and your support. You guys rock!**

**This chapter is un-betaed. All those typeos you're about to read are entirely my fault.**

**Warnings: Angst.**

* * *

Chapter 20  
Leverage

James was borderline exhausted.

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon to reveal an unusually cool and starless night. Even the moon was erased from the sky, leaving a void black canvas above. But despite the calm and slightly eerie shroud of darkness covering the world outside, the hospital was bright and abuzz with people and noise.

James and Logan were fine and injury free when they had arrived; their bruises were inflicted by Katie, who had kicked both boys in the shins, hugged them, then kicked them again. James was also fairly certain he sustained a cracked rib or two due to the bone-crushing embrace Mrs. Knight had captured both him and Logan in when they finally reunited.

James sighed. He stared across the hospital's family room and watched as Kendall's mother spoke with a few police officers on the other side of the glass windows. She occasionally glanced over her shoulder at the boys and Katie, as if checking to make sure they were still there.

The room was quiet, and that was alright. From the corner of his eye James noticed Katie's head drop before quickly snapping back up. It had happened frequently since she took her seat, and when he saw that she was sporting polka-dot pajamas and unkempt hair, his heart clenched in his chest. Katie was slumped tiredly in the chair between James and Logan, elbow on the armrest and hand on her cheek. James figured as soon as Mrs. Knight had been notified of the rescue, she and Katie dropped everything and rushed over.

James hadn't felt guilty before. But now that he, Logan and Carlos were caught, it was a whole different story. He blinked hard to clear his clouded vision. When he gazed over at Mrs. Knight and saw the purple circles underlining her eyes, her pale, makeup-free face, and her auburn hair pulled limply into a ponytail to hide its lack of proper treatment, he had to blink even harder.

The family room of Fayeville hospital was small and homey, complete with walls painted a calm sea green and decorative pale blue furnishings. Being Redgrove was such a small town, it didn't have its own medical facility. Fayeville was the nearest town with a hospital, and Mrs. Knight had driven her minivan and made the eight hour drive in about five and a half.

Inhaling a claming breath, James turned to Katie and draped his arm over the back of her chair. She looked up at him for a few moments, her chocolate eyes glittery and wet, then straightened up and snuggled into his side. He was still wearing his 'disguise,' and the fabric of his striped sweater was becoming scratchy and irritating to his skin. He did his best not to fidget and disturb Katie; her eyelids had finally fluttered shut, and she deserved a little rest.

But it was Logan who concerned James the most. He sat in the foamy blue chair to Katie's right, and hadn't moved in at least thirty minutes. James doubted if he'd even blinked. Logan's eyes were half-lidded and blank, focused on the television in the corner of the room that had been playing muted infomercials ever since their arrival. He'd certainly been quiet since being taken to Fayeville, but this… this was teetering on catatonic.

James almost considered calling for the therapist who'd been roaming around the hospital for the past couple hours. Her name was Dr. Connell, and, unlike a stereotypical psychologist, was young, blonde, and pretty much _hot_. She seemed sweet, too, but the last thing James wanted was to gush his feelings to a stranger. He didn't even know _how_ he was feeling. Carlos had been rushed for a CT scan, Logan was in his own little world, Mrs. Knight and Katie were most likely emotionally traumatized for life, and Kendall was…

Well, James didn't exactly want to think about Kendall.

He'd been checked for physical trauma too many times to count, as well as asked about the details of what had happened, from stealing the car to Kendall vanishing the moment police officers burst through the warehouse door. He'd politely declined numerous times when Dr. Connell asked in her soft voice if she could speak with him, but inside his head he was screaming.

But the pestering of the therapist and the detectives wasn't even the worst part. Hoards of news reporters and paparazzi clogged the hospital halls until they eventually had to be escorted outside by security. James knew as soon as he left the building he would be blinded by camera flashes and deafened by the buzz of voices assaulting him and his friends with questions.

Oh, yeah; he forgot about the BTR fans he'd traumatized as well.

He closed his eyes and fought back a shiver. Everything was still clear and fresh in his mind—the noise, the chaos, the gunshot, the screams, the panic. Everything.

The worst had been Carlos. Once Jace was securely in an ambulance and Rodney was cuffed in the back of a squad car, James and Logan were escorted out of the warehouse by police officers. They shuffled clumsily, knees weak from fear. People kept speaking to them, asking if they were injured, if anything hurt, if they needed medical assistance. James didn't hear a word. The moment he stepped outside he saw Carlos being lifted onto a gurney by several paramedics.

"Where'm I going?" Carlos wondered, rubbing at his ears. "Where're James an' Logan?" He turned his head desperately to the EMTs, searching for an answer.

"Can we ride with him?" Logan asked one of the officers.

"Sorry," the officer, Stark, replied. "There's not enough room. But don't worry. He'll be taken care of. I promise."

James stared as Carlos grabbed the wrist of a man who was attempting to examine his wounded head. "They promised we'd stick together. We have to, because that's what we said. It… We promised. We said we hafta, so I can't… I can't be, um…" He trailed off, but his jumbled words made perfect sense to James.

The paramedic nodded his head as a reassurance to the dazed Latino and said something James couldn't hear.

Through the commotion, James somehow managed to slip away to the side of the building. His footsteps were heavy, his vision unclear. He was just in time to vomit. When he was done he remained where he stood, breathing hard and doing his best not to cry for his missing friend. A comforting hand cupped the nape of his neck as he bent over and retched a second time. James didn't have to look up to know it was Logan. Several seconds later more officers appeared. One tentatively grabbed James's arm and led him away, telling him it was all over now, that everything was okay.

It was the biggest lie he'd ever heard in his life.

"Boys?" Mrs. Knight stuck her head into the room. James and Katie looked up, but Logan didn't flinch. "Someone wants to talk to you," she informed, a hint of hesitancy evident in her voice.

James rolled his eyes, knowing it was yet another officer or detective wanting to clarify a detail or two regardless of the fact he'd explained the story from start to finish several times prior. Either that, or it was Dr. Connell. James wasn't sure which one to hope for.

He was struck silent when Gustavo appeared.

"Katie, come out here with me," said Mrs. Knight as she stepped aside to let the big man enter. Katie was obedient, shooting a nervous glance to unresponsive Logan before looking towards James. James smiled lightly and touched her arm. She returned the gesture before she followed her mother out the door.

Gustavo stood awkwardly and didn't meet James's eyes. A patch of gauze covered the underside of his chin, and a butterfly bandage was pressed over his swollen nose. Several bruises lined his cheekbones and forehead, but at worse it appeared as though a schoolyard bully had gotten the best of him. It was nothing compared to how Kendall had looked.

"So, ah…," Gustavo started, his rough voice disrupting the silence. "I guess I owe you an explanation." His eyes were free from any glasses or shades, letting James see the unusual and almost uncharacteristic earnestness that sparkled in the producer's soft irises.

James didn't say anything; Gustavo decided to take the initiative. He stepped forward—limping, James noticed. James didn't want to express any worry over the man until he heard what Gustavo had to say. Things were still unclear and suspicious; James didn't want to take any chances.

As Gustavo continued to cautiously approach, James stood from his chair. His boss froze, but James pretended not to notice. He strode to the table in the corner and switched off the mute TV. When the screen turned black, James noted Logan hadn't reacted in the slightest.

He knelt in front of his friend's chair. "Logan?" James placed his hand on Logan's arm. "Hey, man."

Slowly, unblinkingly, Logan's eyes shifted to James's. But they weren't focused. They looked right through him.

"You with me?" James asked him. He kept his voice even and steady, like Kendall would do.

Logan nodded.

"Good." He gave Logan's shoulder an assuring shake, then slid into the chair beside him. Frowning pensively, James spoke to Gustavo. "Okay. What's your explanation?"

There was a wooden chair at a small round table in the center of the blue-green room. Gustavo moved it towards the boys with a long sigh and plopped down. "First, are you… you know… okay?"

Affection never was his strong suit.

"What do you think?" James murmured. He didn't mean for it to sound bitter and sarcastic. But it did anyway.

"I just meant…," Gustavo started. He rubbed a beefy hand across his face, then flinched, forgetting it was bruised and cut. "Carlos. He… hit his head, right? How's he doing?"

"I don't know. We're not allowed to see him yet."

Gustavo nodded, then chuckled humorlessly. "The one time he doesn't have his helmet, huh?"

"Still waiting on that explanation."

Gustavo's gaze flicked over to Logan for a split second, then returned to James. He nodded stiffly. "Right. Okay." He took a moment to prepare his words, then began. "I know seeing me there at that building was probably a big shock."

James made 'pfft' sound under his breath.

"But whatever it sounded like, whatever those men told you… You have to know that I was not involved. As much as I'd like to throttle you dogs on a regular basis, I don't actually want to hurt you." James was unconvinced until Gustavo sincerely conceded, "Never."

Then, obviously embarrassed and struggling to properly display some rare sentimentality, Gustavo cleared his throat. "I mean, we're… _friends_, right? We have some fun and crazy times. You know, besides you four having to do what I say and being legally bound to Rocque Records five days a week due to a contractual agreement…"

"Gustavo," James groaned, rubbing his temples. "This is painful. Just… Tell us what you came in here to tell us, okay?"

"Yeah, alright." Gustavo seemed relieved and puffed out a breath of air. He shifted positions slightly in his chair, and stared at the carpet. He spoke slowly. "Years ago, before I hired Kelly as my assistant, me and Chris worked together."

James paled.

"His full name is Christopher Pryce. He was a temp working at Rocque Records. That's how I met him. He seemed like a decent enough guy, and every once in a while we'd shoot the breeze and talk music and just hang out.

"I thought things would go a little more smoothly for me if I had a partner. Since Chris was really helpful and I enjoyed his company, I figured I'd ask him to go into business with me."

"So you're friends with this guy?" Logan suddenly interrupted, horrified. James whipped his head to the side. Logan's white fingers gripped the armrests, and he sat at full attention. He seemed to have snapped out of whatever trance he'd been in.

"No," growled Gustavo. But when he realized it was Logan who had spoke, he softened his tone. "No. Just listen, alright?"

Both boys relaxed, and Gustavo continued. "There was something a little off about Chris. I didn't know what. You know how that is, right? Sometimes you just get a feeling about a person. But I… I made a mistake. I ignored my intuition, and I asked Chris if he'd like to start working with me permanently."

"And he said yes?" James guessed.

"Yep." Gustavo sighed repentantly. "It went pretty good for the first couple months, really. But then Chris… He just started acting different."

"Different how?" asked Logan.

Gustavo groped for words. "His temper was really violent."

"So?" said James, raising an eyebrow. "You've chased us with a baseball bat hundreds of times before."

"And tried to slash us up with a butcher knife," Logan pointed out, crossly.

"Oh, and don't forget about the time you chased Carlos into traffic."

"And the time you tried to run us over in your Porsche—"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!"

Logan and James shrunk back at the loud bellow, but it was kind of nice to be reminded of the producer's familiar angry roar.

"I just meant," said Gustavo, "that one second Chris was screaming and smashing instruments, and the next he was everybody's best friend. Nobody even wanted to come up to the fourth floor anymore, because they were so afraid of him. Now, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I have occasional tantrums myself."

"You don't say." Logan rolled his eyes.

"Anyway," Gustavo continued with a pointed glare, "unlike me, Chris actually got into it with a couple workers at one point. He beat them up pretty bad. None of the injured workers ever admitted it was Chris, but the cuts on his knuckles was proof enough."

James swallowed nervously and rubbed a hand across his face. The information Gustavo was revealing made him sick to his stomach. Anyone could have guessed Chris was a violent person, but hearing a firsthand account was enormously unsettling. He stole a quick glance towards Logan, concerned his friend would fall back into unresponsiveness. Thankfully, Logan seemed alert and engaged in the conversation despite his pallid complexion.

"I fired him," said Gustavo. "He begged me not to. He said he didn't have a lot of money, and found it hard to hold down a job in the first place. He said if I fired him no other company would want to hire him. But I wasn't about to let some psycho stay in my building and hurt my employees.

"He smashed a few windows on his way downstairs, and we ended up having to call the police to escort him out. He might have even done jail time for that. I don't know. I didn't hear anything from Chris for a long time."

Gustavo finally lifted his eyes from the carpet. His expression was so remorseful and apologetic that James was nearly dumbstruck. He'd never seen a look like that on Gustavo's face. Not ever.

His boss became gravely serious and spoke quietly. "Saturday was a pretty stressful day, after the news of Kendall supposedly running away and whatnot. Me and Kelly were at the studio well into the night meeting with Griffin and discussing our options and what to do with the band. I checked my email late that night, and saw I received a message from an address I didn't recognize. I ignored it, because the last time I opened a message from some stranger my computer got a virus. It was really late when I got back to my mansion, and I was just about to get some sleep when I got a phone call. It was a man's voice telling me to go back online and open the message."

Logan shuddered. "What did the message say?"

Gustavo was silent for a moment, collecting his composure.

"Gustavo, what did it say?" pressed Logan.

"It was a message written by some guy, explaining to me how miserable his life was since he was fired from Rocque Records. The way it was written… I don't know, I guess I just knew it was him. I knew it was Chris. And, honestly? I didn't care. I was going to delete it."

"What?" James and Logan simultaneously bolted to their feet.

Gustavo jumped slightly.

"Gustavo, you didn't _care_?" Logan cried. "Chris had Kendall and you weren't going to do anything about it?" He almost looked like he was going to lash out, so James grabbed his elbow, though he himself was seething at the man he called a friend.

"No, no," Gustavo groaned, tiredly rubbing his eyes. "Just stop jumping to conclusions and interrupting me so I can explain."

Reluctantly, James lowered himself back into his seat. Logan remained standing.

"Chris said he wanted me to call him on his cell phone. He left his number in the message. I wasn't going to do it, until I saw there was a file attached to the email. I opened it, and…" He swallowed. "It was a picture of Kendall."

James wiped his sweaty palms across the thighs of his jeans. "A picture of Kendall? Doing what? What do you mean?"

"He was tied up, sitting on a chair," said Gustavo, a little shakily. "It looked like he'd been beaten up. It looked like…" He shook his head, and Logan finally dropped back onto his seat.

Gustavo went on to explain how he'd called Chris immediately after seeing the picture of Kendall. Chris said that unless Gustavo wanted more harm to befall Kendall, Gustavo had to make up a story about going to a conference out of town, then meet Chris outside Gustavo's mansion on Sunday morning.

"I had no idea where Kendall was, so if I called the police and they didn't find him right away, Chris would know they were on to him and… you know. I wasn't going to let that happen. This whole thing is about revenge! Chris is angry at me for ruining his life, so he wants to make me suffer before he puts a bullet in my head. He wanted me in exchange for Kendall. If I went, he'd let Kendall go. That's what he swore he'd do." Gustavo lowered his voice and chuckled darkly. "I guess I've been around you guys so much, I've started to believe people when they make a promise."

Logan sniffled and bowed his head, obviously in an attempt to control his emotions. "That's what they said to Kendall," he murmured. "They got him to make it look like he ran away from home, promising if he did, no harm would come to us."

James shook his head back and forth in disbelief. "That seems like a really risky move," he said. "Using us as leverage to get to Kendall, who in turn is being used as leverage to get to Gustavo."

"Yeah, but it worked, didn't it?" Gustavo muttered.

"So why does Chris still have Kendall, then?" Logan wondered. "If Kendall was only used to get you into that warehouse… Does that mean Chris is going to try it again?"

They sat in quietly for several moments. Through the windows that showed a view of the hospital halls, a few nurses and doctors bustled by, despite the lateness of the hour. The police officers had cleared, and Mrs. Knight and Katie were no where to be seen, though James doubted they wandered far.

"When I think about if I could do it all over again," the boss said, in a voice James thought he was incapable of producing, "I'd still go with Chris. He would have killed Kendall, I know he would have. Then he would have found someone else I care about, lured them into the same trap, and kept on and on until I finally caved or every one of my friends was dead."

The stillness that washed over the room was strangely comfortable, a feeling James didn't know could quite exist anymore. His heart still ached, but the feeling wasn't as powerful as it had been previously. He wouldn't cry. Kendall wouldn't cry.

"So, those other guys," Logan piped up. "Jace and Rodney, or whatever their names are. Did you know them, too?"

"No," replied Gustavo. "I mean, I don't remember them. I figure they're either friends of Chris of just some thugs he hired to help get the job done." He paused, then added, "You have to admit, though, the guy is smart. You'd have to be, to pull off a plan like that. Plus, he was clever enough to find a way to cover everything up so the police weren't involved. So many kids run away, especially in a big city like this. The police have more important matters to handle. And as for me, well… Everyone thought I was in Fresno. If I attended a nonexistent meeting and never returned, the police would be searching for me, and not the killer who decided to shoot me in my sleep."

* * *

Kelly arrived shortly afterwards to promptly break her professionalism and catch Logan and James into a hug, then smack her boss across the arm with a hard whack from her purse all before changing her mind and offering Gustavo an awkward half-hug.

Gustavo was allowed to leave the hospital. Kelly volunteered to drive, since the man was practically falling asleep where he stood. It was clear she wanted to stay and visit Carlos, but a sleep-deprived Gustavo could be very dangerous.

Mrs. Knight and Katie found their way back to the family room the moment Gustavo and Kelly left. From the windows, James saw Dr. Connell roaming the halls. He prayed she didn't come back in to try to talk with them.

Katie found a chair and rested with her head across James's lap, and Mrs. Knight secured an arm around Logan's shoulders. They didn't say anything. There was nothing to be said.

Finally, a nurse poked her head into the room. "Carlos Garcia can accept visitors now," she announced, her voice soft when she noticed sleeping Katie. "But he's a little tired, so we're only allowing two visitors at a time."

James quickly turned towards Mrs. Knight, pleading silently, and she nodded in agreement. Her features were taut with worry, but they did relax slightly at the nurse's news.

James was careful not to disturb Katie as he lifted himself to his feet. She stirred slightly, but didn't wake when he gently lifted her head from his lap. He and Logan exited the room together. Logan stumbled once, and reached out to grab the doorframe. James waited for him to regain his balance before the two started for Carlos's room.

There was a white bandage circling Carlos's head, but for the most part he looked normal, if not a little drowsy. He flashed a toothy grin when Logan and James stepped into the white room.

"Hey," Logan said, immediately finding the chair beside the bed. "How're you feeling? You okay?"

Carlos shrugged nonchalantly as James hovered behind Logan. "I guess," he answered, yawning. "But no one will tell me anything around here. I've been asking to see you guys for the past hour, but the doctor kept telling me to take it easy till they get my follow up brain scan thing back."

Logan peered over his shoulder and shared a concerned glance with James. James set his jaw in thought.

"What?" said Carlos. "Why are you looking at each other like that?" He attempted to push himself up in the tiny bed. A thin blanket covered his legs, and a flat pillow was propped up behind his shoulders. He pushed the pillow up to support the back of his neck as he repositioned himself.

"What do you remember?" James drawled slowly. "About what happened."

Carlos scratched absently at the bandage. "Well, I remember that skinny guy hurting Kendall before doing this to my head." Then, casually, as if speaking about the weather, he asked, "What happened to that guy, anyway?"

Logan paled and cleared his throat.

James took the hint and answered for him, voice grim. "He was shot, Carlos."

"Oh yeah. I remember that now." Carlos yawned again, then stretched his arms over his head. James watched him, a little shocked that Carlos was so undamaged by the events that had occurred. "But he's okay, right?"

"Yeah," answered Logan. His voice was a whispery croak. "He'll live."

"And those other guys?"

"Rodney was arrested once the police found us."

"Right," said Carlos, as the memories came back. "That big guy. He had handcuffs on, I remember seeing that. And I remember…" His unconcerned demeanor changed. The happy smirk that lifted the corners of his mouth dropped as realization dawned upon him. "I remember… I couldn't find you."

"Carlos," James started, gently. But Carlos cut him off.

"I remember I couldn't find Kendall." Brown eyes opened wide. "Wait. Kendall. Where's Kendall? Is he okay? He's in the next room over or something, right?"

Without a word, Logan rose to his feet and left the room. He walked with long, quick strides until he turned the corner and disappeared from sight. Carlos stared confusedly after him, and finally turned his attention to James for some answers.

His bottom lip trembled. "Kendall's in the next room over, _right_?"

James wasn't angry at Logan for darting from the room. He was angry at himself for not doing it first.

Everything inside him was numb, like he was some cold machine forming words and performing actions automatically. He slid stiffly into the chair beside the bed; Logan hadn't sat there long enough to leave any body heat behind, and James shivered from a sudden chill. He thought about everything Gustavo had told him and realized he'd have to repeat all the painful conclusions yet again.

Emotionally, he was fairly blank. And he'd do his best to keep it that way, too. Someone had to be the strong one. Someone had to put on a brave face and keep the others glued together. Someone had to put aside their own haunting memories of being tied up by a man with a gun, seeing a bullet tear through Jace's shoulder, listening to Kendall's desperate screams as he was dragged through a doorway by someone who gave Gustavo nightmares.

"James?"

He took a deep breath. Yes, he could do this. He had to. He'd stay strong, and he'd be Kendall until Kendall came back.

If Kendall came back.

And everything would be okay. He'd make it okay. Kendall was taken through the door while trying to protect James. It was the least he could do.

He met Carlos's innocent eyes, then explained everything he knew.


	21. Bad Dreams

**A/N: So, last chapter was kind of a milestone. Firstly, it was the 20th chapter of the story, which is the most chapters a story of mine has ever contained. Secondly, I broke 100k words! Wow. That makes this the longest story I've ever written. And thirdly, I reached over 300 reviews! So I want to give a huuuuge THANK YOU to every single reader and reviewer. I appreciate your constant support, and especially your patience as I struggle with updates. Please continue to leave me some feedback; I love hearing thoughts, reactions, critiques, anything. It motivates me ;) This chapter might seem like a filler, but it's setting up the next one.**

**P.S. Another thing that came to my attention was the scene in 'Big Time Contest' when we see Logan driving. I AM SO PROUD OF HIM. Finally gettin' his license. Obviously in this story he does not have it, but still. XD**

**Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort. Unbeta'ed**

* * *

Chapter 21  
Bad Dreams

After everything that had happened recently, James figured Logan would be taking things the hardest. After all, Logan was frequently labeled as the most timid member of the group, and had a definite tendency to overreact to trivial situations. Logan was always thinking, always calculating, observing, studying. His brain worked out the most rational solution to a problem. And by using a Logan way of logic, it was easy to assume the small, panicky, and somewhat pessimistic teen would be suffering more extensively than the rest.

But, like most assumptions, James's was wrong.

His right arm was sore and heavy from being draped limply over Carlos's shoulders. The Latino had his knees pulled up to his chest and his face buried somewhere in James's shoulder as he cried, and cried, and cried.

They were in Logan's room, and had been for about an hour. The sun would be coming up soon, but no one had yet attempted sleep. Logan had retired to a beanbag chair in the corner of the room while James sat on the bed with his back against the wall and Carlos clinging to his shirt.

James's head dropped frequently, so he wiped a quick hand over his face to keep himself awake. Fatigue and anxiety had drained his body considerably, but he wouldn't fall asleep; not when Carlos needed him. James would stay up all night if he had to, offering comfort to Carlos and waiting patiently for the boy to either pull himself together or cry himself to sleep.

That's what Kendall would do.

There was a wet spot rapidly growing on James's shirt, which was a result of Carlos's ceaseless tears. Occasionally Carlos would attempt to suppress his sobs, causing his body to jerk with an infrequent hiccup. But Carlos's childish distress wasn't his fault, it was James's. James was obviously the most composed of the group. If he couldn't prevent Carlos from dehydrating himself from lost tears, or get Logan to snap out of the unresponsive state he'd fallen into an hour ago… Well, that was on James. Someone had to take responsibility. Someone had to be calm and keep control.

He just didn't know how to go about doing that.

A particularly loud whimper from Carlos made James nearly jump in surprise. Carlos pressed himself closer to James's side and took a shuddery breath. James fought the urge to roll his eyes at his friend's immature display of emotion. Because, _really_? _Crying _was going to bring Kendall back? Yeah, didn't think so.

It occurred to him then that the last time James saw Kendall was over twelve hours ago. Didn't Carlos's dad always say the first forty-eight hours were the most crucial in a kidnapping investigation? Kendall's chances dropped more and more with every tick of the clock. He could be hundreds of miles away. He could be dead. Carlos and Logan were acting as though they'd given up, and Kendall never let one of them give up, on _anything_. To do so would be an insult to his memory.

If Kendall were dead, anyway. Which, in all honesty, he probably was.

Huh.

As Carlos's body lurched with an onslaught of hiccups, there was a light knock on the door.

"Guys?" Mrs. Knight poked her head into the room. She wore sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. The auburn hair that framed her pale face was tangled and unkempt. "Can I come in?"

When the three members of Big Time Rush had finally been allowed to leave the hospital, James was fairly certain they'd be yet again questioned by detectives or forced to sit through a session of beautiful Dr. Connell holding up inkblots. He was pleasantly surprised when Mrs. Knight entered Carlos's room and announced they were free to leave. She was grinning broadly when she said it, which probably meant she'd done some ruthless reprimanding until the police or hospital staff finally relented and let her take her boys home.

Everything about her changed during the ride home.

The long ride from Fayeville to Los Angeles was mostly silent; listening to the radio was out of the question because Kendall's Amber alert played every so often and made everyone sick to their stomachs. Logan actually rolled down the window at one point, no doubt fearing he would vomit. It never quite came to that, but when a passing car's headlights flashed through the interior of the minivan, James saw that Logan's complexion appeared rather green.

"Please try to get some sleep," said Mrs. Knight. She took a small step forward, eyes shifting between Carlos and Logan on either sides of the room. "Either that, or talk to me. Or let me call someone for you to talk to. Dr. Connell said she's available for us twenty-four hours."

She was trying, James knew. She wanted to help them and make sure they were alright. But she didn't understand. She didn't realize that nothing was alright, and unless Kendall was found alive and well, nothing would be alright ever again.

No one answered. With a sorrowful sigh, Mrs. Knight approached Carlos. James didn't remove his grip from the Latino as she lowered herself on the bed next to him. "Sweetie, look at me."

Carlos did, slowly, wiping his wet face against James's shirt instead of using one of his hands. The skin around his eyes was red and puffy, and his brown eyes shined with a soft, dismal glow.

Mrs. Knight placed a motherly hand on his face. James was glad to see it wasn't shaking. During the ride home, Kendall's mother's hands trembled so violently that she had to pull over on the shoulder of the road. It happened several times, and every time she was too stricken with grief to do much else but cry. James was just thankful Katie had fallen asleep and didn't have to see it.

Mrs. Knight's tears were the trigger for Carlos's. His CT scan turned out fine; there was no blood in his brain, and with some rest the doctor assured he'd be good as new. After the second time Mrs. Knight pulled over, Carlos lost it. Logan awkwardly reached over in his seat to rub Carlos's back while Carlos stifled as much noise as he could by use of his jacket sleeve. Katie stirred only once, then fell back to sleep muttering something that sounded suspiciously like her brother's name.

The doctor had instructed Carlos be woken from sleep every few hours during the first twenty-four hours of his injury. When the Latino finally nodded off in the car, James and Logan were reluctant to pull him away from a world of happy colors and warmth.

"The police are doing everything they can," Mrs. Knight told Carlos. She used her thumb to wipe away a stray tear that rolled down his cheek. Carlos tried to nod, but ended up sniffling and leaning into the touch of her hand. Mrs. Knight stooped down and kissed his forehead.

Carlos opened his eyes and swallowed. "Maybe," he said, voice rough and congested with tears, "if you kiss me right here, it'll help me feel better." He unlatched an arm from James to point at a spot under his eye.

She smiled a thin, watery smile, but nonetheless complied and pressed her lips against his face. "Better?" she asked, smoothing back some disheveled hair.

Carlos managed a small curve of his lips and nodded his head giddily.

"I know it's hard, but try to get some sleep."

Carlos sniffled a couple times before nodding once more. Mrs. Knight shifted her gaze to James, but he could only meet her bloodshot eyes for a few moments before he shied away. Maybe it was because Carlos had been attached to him for the past hour, but James's legs felt suddenly restless. He shifted positions slightly, hoping to alleviate some discomfort. Carlos tightened his arms around James's middle, and James sighed tiredly as his friend nestled closer.

The bedsprings squeaked as Mrs. Knight left the bed to cross the room. She kneeled to the carpet before Logan, who didn't seem to notice her presence. James's heart ached in sympathy for the anxious mother. He couldn't believe how strong she was, how she could manage to bounce between four practically disconsolate children and offer them smiles and subtle optimism through the gentle touches of her hands.

"Logan," Mrs. Knight said softly. His eyes seemed unusually gray and lackluster; it was as though he wasn't there at all. With a grip so tender it appeared her fingertips barely brushed his skin, Mrs. Knight took Logan's face in her hands and forced him to look at her. "Sweetheart."

He blinked then; the first sign of life James had witnessed from Logan in nearly an hour. The beanbag chair crinkled faintly as Logan was presumably pulled from his inertness. Both were quiet for several moments as Logan inhaled deeply a few times and Mrs. Knight soothingly stroked his hair.

"I was just thinking," said Logan. His voice was no louder than a choked whisper; it sounded almost painful.

"About what?" asked Kendall's mom.

His lips twitched into a frown. James was familiar with the look of oncoming tears. "Just… everything."

She hugged him then, without much warning. One arm hooked around Logan's neck and the other around his shoulder. She pressed her face into the softness of his hair and whispered in his ear, but James couldn't make out any distinct words. Logan seemed surprised at the contact at first, but when Mrs. Knight continued to hang on he closed his eyes and relaxed into the embrace.

The brief intervals of time between Carlos's onslaught of sobs and Logan's catatonic-like trances were always filled with relief. It took pressure off James's heart to be immersed in a moment free of sniffles and muffled sobs from Carlos. James watched the two people in the corner of the room and felt his body attempt to pull him into sleep.

"Mom?" said a tiny voice at the door.

James had carried sleeping Katie into the apartment when they arrived not long ago, and with Logan's help had tucked her snugly into bed. She stood now in her same pink pajamas and her brown hair in a messy tangle around her head. "Mom?" she repeated in a sob.

The last time James had seen Kendall's sister cry was when she was an infant. In fact, there were numerous times when Katie proved to be the most level-headed and mature of them all. It didn't seem right to see her upset.

Mrs. Knight pulled away from Logan and turned to face her daughter. "It's going to be okay, baby," she told Katie. Logan received a peck on the temple before Mrs. Knight stood and hurried to Katie's side. "Come on. I'll tuck you in."

"I don't want to sleep," Katie sniffled, but Mrs. Knight was already ushering her out the door.

The room fell still. James could feel his figure become limp, and began to see colored pictures behind his suddenly closed eyelids. Carlos's body was warm against his, and James had to admit he was at ease. Sleep was about to take him when a rustling in the corner made the colors flee.

"Do you think she's mad about the car?"

He inhaled deeply and cracked an eye open at Logan's hushed voice. Irritation laced his words: "Seriously? You're really thinking about the car right now?"

Logan sank down low into the squishy chair and loosely griped two fistfuls of his hair. Tears sat in his eyes but refused to spill over. "I'm so scared, James."

"No!" Carlos shouted, lifting his head. The abrupt outburst startled James, and he gasped as Carlos pulled away from him for the first time since entering Logan's room. "Don't say that!" he cried, beginning to sob once more. "No one say it."

"Well we're all thinking it, aren't we?" responded Logan.

Carlos hugged his arms around his body as it shook and shivered in his flurry. "I know, but I don't want anyone to actually _say_ it, because if you say it that means it's real, and I just... I just want it to be a bad dream." His breaths became quicker, and soon the tears resumed their fall down his round cheeks.

Something simmered in James's chest. When Logan finally stood and made his way over to the bed, the feeling increased to a boil. Logan slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress and slid an arm around Carlos's heaving shoulders. His expression was the epitome of dejection, but it didn't stop Carlos from tossing both arms around his friend's torso and crying shamelessly against Logan's chest.

James was thankful for the break, and used the opportunity to stand and stretch his muscles. When he looked down and saw the wet stain on the front of his shirt, his feelings heated. They intensified even more at the sounds of Carlos's deafening wails.

Kendall probably would have had more control, but at the moment James ignored the thought. "Carlos, can you stop _crying_?" he groaned in exasperation. He ran both hands through his hair and messed it all up.

"Hey," Logan chided.

James's voice only made Carlos cry harder and Logan hold him tighter.

"We can't just sit here and feel sorry for ourselves," James gritted out. "We should be doing something to find Kendall. We should be _helping _him. That's what he'd be doing for us, right? He wouldn't be sitting here crying—"

"James, stop it," Logan growled, glancing down at Carlos. "He's scared."

Carlos's fist clenched firmly around a wad of Logan's shirt. He whimpered and pressed his face to the crook of Logan's neck, shoulders racking with relentless sobs.

"Hey," Logan soothed, gently rubbing his back. "It's okay. You're not doing anything wrong." With the skill of a protective older brother he cupped the back of Carlos's neck and murmured something else.

James's vision blurred, and his breaths emerged as short, panicked gasps. Because how could they not get it? Didn't they understand that wallowing in sorrow wasn't going to bring their friend back? "We need to do something!" he exclaimed. "We need a plan, some course of action. Kendall always had a plan. Do you think he'd be sitting here acting like he's given up? If he were in our situation, he'd be out there right now fighting to bring us back home because friends aren't supposed to give up on each other, and—Carlos, can you please _shut up_?" He shouted the final words once the anger building in his chest could manifest no more.

Carlos screamed in anguish. Red-faced, Logan covered one hand over Carlos's ear and spoke loudly to be heard over Carlos's wails. "Get out."

James held two fists at his side, fingers curled so tightly they ached. "What?"

"I said, get out!" Logan exclaimed, nodding towards the door. His eyes sparkled with tears, yet his expression was a scowl. "You're making this worse. If you're going to yell at Carlos for getting upset, then get out of my room."

James gaped at him in surprise. He watched as Logan bowed his head and murmured something else to Carlos, who was still practically shrieking. Logan ran his hands over Carlos's back in a comforting motion, then tightened the brotherly embrace.

"You…," James started. He lowered his voice, but the frustration was still present. His fingernails dug painfully into his palms. "You want me to leave?"

Logan snapped his head back up, once again clapping a hand over Carlos's ear in a fruitless attempt to prevent the crying boy from hearing the argument. "Yes. Go." His strong, even voice didn't falter. "Go steal Mrs. Knight's car again. Leave her and Katie heartbroken and go try to find Kendall even though we have _no_ idea where he could possibly be." He stopped, looking back down and whispering something else to Carlos, who somehow managed to nod. Then Logan looked back up, dark eyes locking on James as if asking, 'Why are you still here?'

"If Carlos is upset," Logan continued, "then he has every right to cry. I don't need you in here hollering at him and making matters worse. So if you're going to keep screaming at him… Then just leave. I don't care where you go, James, just get out of this room."

The hot flames within him were doused by sudden grief. The tension in his muscles subsided, and James uncurled his fists.

"L-Lo…g-gan…," Carlos sobbed.

"It's okay," Logan murmured. He pressed the side of his face to Carlos's head. "Don't listen to him, Carlos. It's okay. We'll be okay."

James continued to watch them, remaining stationary on the opposite side of the room. And now he didn't quite know how he was feeling. Because everything was his fault, right? It had to be. Kendall was taken by Chris while trying to save James from a bullet, and now Carlos was even more upset than he was before, all because James couldn't keep his emotions in check like Kendall could have—which was the biggest insult James could have given, considering Kendall probably didn't sacrifice his life for James just so James could go and mess everything up.

This wasn't right. It wasn't right at all.

How could Logan tell Carlos everything was okay? It wasn't. It wasn't okay, it wasn't okay, _it wasn't okay_ and it never would be, because _everything_ was exactly how it wasn't supposed to be. And James was to blame. He proposed the plan to take the car to search for Kendall. Maybe Chris would have let Kendall go if the rest of Big Time Rush hadn't arrived. Maybe Kendall would be home right now if James would have told Logan and Carlos they needed to stay with Mrs. Knight and Katie instead of leaving to find Kendall, who obviously didn't want to be found.

And, _darn it_, why did Kendal have to be so selfless?

It didn't matter now. Nothing could be done. They weren't giving up, they were accepting inevitabilities; moving on, as Kendall would say. This time there was no mysterious address to follow. There were no leads, no evidence that gave even a remote idea of where Chris could have hidden Kendall. It was all up to the police, and James was unsure if they had any plans, either.

James wasn't sure when he started crying, but soon his head was heavy on his shoulders and nothing could stop the streams that poured from his eyes. It wouldn't bring Kendall back, but he cried anyway in the hopes it would help him accept that fact.

The guy who promised he'd always be there for his friends no matter what was suddenly gone, but it didn't make sense because Kendall never made promises he couldn't keep.

James lowered his head and sobbed until his throat burned. It didn't occur to him how childish he was being, how immature it looked for a grown boy to be bawling like a little kid. He was scared. He'd never been more scared in all his life, not even when Chris had pointed a gun at him. And Carlos was crying, and now Logan was crying, and somewhere down the hall Katie and Mrs. Knight were crying, and that just _wasn't right._

"Come here," a squeaky voice said. James's body was so shaky and his eyes so cloudy he could barely see that Logan held out an arm and welcomed him over. "James, come here."

Somehow he commanded his feet to move. He seated himself on the edge of the bed and allowed the sound of his pathetic wails to accompany Carlos's while Logan awkwardly pulled them all together.

It was all they could do.

* * *

It was cold.

The dank air stung his throat and nose. It hurt to cough; a searing, dry burn, sometimes so deep it made him gag. He never thought he'd wish to be back in the sweltering, humid air of the warehouse, but now he prayed for it.

Kendall wasn't sure of his exact location. In the city, he knew; Los Angeles—close to home. He figured he was in the area of town his friends often referred to as 'LA's Murder District' considering the minor glimpse he caught of the surrounding neighborhood contained rows of abandoned buildings and homes.

_Tip-tap. Tip-tap. Tip-tap. Tip-tap…_

He shivered and tugged futilely at the sleeves of his torn shirt. Kendall had resorted to curling up on the floor and hugging his arms around his body in hopes of warming himself. Sure, he felt feeble and helpless, but it was better than freezing to death.

There was no light in the closet, just a dull sash of grey emitting from the crack under the locked door. He could lay on his back with his head touching the wall and stretch his legs until his feet were flat against the opposite side. There was enough room for him to roll over one full time and then another half roll, so at least he had a little space to move.

_Tip-tap. Tip-tap. Tip-tap. Tip-tap…_

But it was so dark. As Chris shoved him into the decrepit place Kendall got a quick look of his new home—wood floor black with mildew and dirt, shining with wetness; cracked walls with peeling paint; a creaky old door with a shiny new lock. But the worst of it was a leaky pipe which protruded partly from the warped ceiling.

_Tip-tap. Tip-tap. Tip-tap. _The water dripped constantly and rhythmically. At first it was comforting. It was something to pass the time, making the _tip-tap _into a song or counting game. But it quickly became an annoyance—one that Kendall tried to put an end to. About an hour ago he'd removed his tennis shoe and slipped off a sock. It was easy to feel around the damp floor to locate the spot where the pipe dripped. He blindly folded the sock and laid it neatly under the water leak. The nauseating sound was stifled by the dry cloth, and he was relieved. For several long minutes afterwards, in the silence, he could still hear the imaginary _tip-tap_ echoing in his ears. He scrubbed at them quickly, to no avail, and promptly stuck both index fingers into his ears to drown out the sound.

_Tip-tap. Tip-tap. Tip-tap. Tip-tap…_

But now the sock was wet, and the dripping was back.

_Shut-up. Shut-up. Shut-up. Shut-up…_

His thirst had also returned. The incessant _tip-tap _reminded him that it was water that was dripping. It would have made sense to wring out the soaked sock over his mouth, but Kendall still had some dignity. He'd resist as long as he was able.

Why did it have to be so _cold_? He shuddered once more and sucked in a shaky breath. His squeezed his arms tighter around his body and thought of Jacuzzis and sunny beaches. Most of the time his eyes remained closed, though sleep was the last thing on his mind. He was bored of scanning the darkness and being barely able to see his hand in front of his face. Alone in a cramped space… it made him think. Mostly about James. Sometimes about James's family, and how they were handling the loss. Maybe they didn't even know James was dead. Maybe Jace and Rodney had taken the body somewhere else…

Kendall's eyes snapped open. He scrambled to sit upright with his back pressed against the cool wall. He raked a hand down his bruised face in attempts to shake the horrific thoughts from his head. He didn't want to cry anymore. He had to stay strong for Carlos and Logan. They could be out there somewhere, and there was a possibility Chris could bring Kendall back to his friends. Because they had to be alive. They _had _to be.

_Tip-tap. Tip-tap. Ken-dall. Ken-dall…_

"Shut up," he grumbled to the leaky pipe.

_Ken-dall. Ken-dall. Ken-dall._

"Stop it." He groped sightlessly through the dark and found the sock, a wet clump of dirty cotton. He reeled his uninjured arm as far back as he could manage within the confines of the closet and hurled the article of clothing at the door. It thudded loudly against the wood before smacking wetly to the moldy ground.

He stopped and listened. _Ken-dall. Ken-dall. Tip-tap…_

He strained his ears and concentrated on the noise, or lack thereof, that came from the other side of the door. On several occasions throughout the few hours he'd been locked in, Kendall had heard Chris's footsteps outside. Sometimes they paced the floor, and sometimes Chris's voice accompanied them. He began speaking to himself halfway through the car ride to the city. Kendall ignored most of it, because a majority of the one-sided conversations didn't make much sense. Now, though, it was silent. Chris wasn't in the building.

Another shiver racked his body, and Kendall laughed. He laughed despite the loneliness and the fear, the hunger that pained his stomach and the thirst that stung his throat. He laughed knowing his friend was dead.

"You know," Kendall told the dripping, which once again chanted his name, "I really don't deserve this." He paused, and the crooked smile faded. "I don't deserve any of this."

The dripping stopped then, as if it were waiting for him to continue.

"I mean, why was I the one who had to get a job the day I turned sixteen?" he asked the quiet. "Why did I have to take care of my sister while Mom worked? I watched after Katie, I helped Mom with the things a single mother couldn't do by herself. I kept my grades up, too. Did you know I never brought home a disappointing report card? And hockey… I've been loyal to the team, because they're my family too. I never let them down. I never did anything wrong." His voice raised slightly. "But _why_? Why did I have to do all those things? Why did I have to do all that and have everyone look at me like I was some role model, or a responsible older brother? I do everything for them! I do everything for my family and my friends. I don't deserve that responsibility! I don't deserve _any_ of that, and I sure as heck don't deserve to be _here_!"

He was shouting by the time his admission came to an end. Kendall found himself on his feet, chest heaving and two fists balled tightly at his sides. His anger warmed him; perhaps that was the only way to keep out the cold.

But he couldn't grasp it. The pipe dripped once, and Kendall sighed miserably. "But… why did the guys come to keep me company while I worked? Why did they make a game out of pushing shopping carts to the front of the store? Why did they come over to play with me and Katie when we were home alone?" His eyes stung hot, noticeable against his clammy skin. "Everyday at home they make me laugh so hard I can't breathe." He thought of James and bit down on his lower lip to fight away the tears. "I don't deserve that, either," Kendall whispered.

The water's respectful stillness was over. It continued again, _tip-tap_ping like it had before. Kendall closed his eyes and sank back to the floor. It was easier to focus on the guilt than the grief, so he concentrated on the knot in his gut. The goose bumps on his skin didn't leave, so he rubbed his hands over his arms to generate some body heat.

He didn't deserve to die.


	22. Blood

**A/N: Wow, this update was extremely fast! It's a short-ish chapter and somewhat similar to the last one, but chapter 23 will be a lot more interesting, I promise. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. If you leave a review I will be forever grateful :)**

**Warnings: Angst. Unbeta'ed**

* * *

Chapter 22  
Blood

Logan jolted awake when he felt his head drop forward. He snapped back to attention with a sharp inhale. When the sounds of screams and gunshots echoed out of his mind, he was able to focus and remember he was safe at home. With a soft sigh, Logan relaxed.

His right arm and leg tingled uncomfortably with a pins and needles feeling that never seemed to fade to numbness. Carlos was practically on his lap, still resting his head against Logan's chest. One hand limply grasped a fistful of Logan's shirt. It would have been embarrassing, because guys did not let each other fall asleep like _this_.

But none of that really mattered anymore. Everything was different now.

Logan yawned and squinted from the harsh bedroom light. He blinked several times as his pupils dilated and he was able to read the numbers of the alarm clock stationed atop his dresser. On a normal day, it would be about time to wake up and get ready for the morning. But today the blinds were tightly closed so no sunlight or warmth could peek through the windows.

He fidgeted slightly, itching to move his arms and legs. He had remained immobile for about two hours while Carlos let out his emotions. It was more painful to watch than anything, not only because Carlos was so upset, but because Logan knew there was only one thing that could make it better: Logan took it upon himself to comfort Carlos with lies. He filled his friend's head with assurances and promises of healing. He told Carlos everything would be okay, that Kendall would be okay. James sat like a statue and listened to the whole thing, not interfering at all, so Logan was alone in his endeavor.

It had paid off. Logan had given Carlos hope when it was really a lie, but the more Logan thought about it, the more he realized they were the same things.

James was asleep on the other side of bed, body curled inward and one foot dangling off the edge of the mattress. He'd fallen still soon after Carlos and hadn't stirred since.

Logan sighed, eyelids heavy as lead. He glanced down at Carlos. The Latino's breathing was deep and steady, hopefully because of a happy dream. Logan hadn't wanted to fall asleep before, but now he figured it was alright. Both his friends were finally in a blessed state of unconsciousness, so he should be too, right?

But something nagged him to stay awake—a protective urge that only emerged in dire situations. He wanted to remain alert and monitor his friends to ensure nothing woke them. But that sounded like something Kendall would do.

And Logan couldn't think about Kendall without shuddering in disgust.

His tears weren't for Kendall. They were never for Kendall. They were caused by sympathy for James and Carlos. They were caused by the horrifying image of a bullet tearing through Jace's shoulder; the torture Gustavo had endured; the fear that still held its grip on his insides.

He couldn't think clearly. He couldn't concentrate on anything else other than the one thing he wanted erased from his mind, and when he did concentrate, his body seemed to shut down and tune out all the noise around him. He'd remain completely still, just _thinking_. Every muscle was constantly tense, the tight pinching in his chest made him nearly gag, and the steam from those burning emotions inside him raised to his head and fogged every rational thought. The most detestable part of him had opened up and slowly began consuming every other feeling within him. It was strong and boiling hot, like magma pumping through his veins. It heightened his senses, made him hear his heart pound in his ears like a drum. It crawled with serpentine fingers, spreading its malignancy like oil over water. It was hate, it was utmost betrayal, it was rage and disbelief and pity and everything he never thought he could feel towards Kendall.

Logan never imagined a person more distrustful, more selfish or egotistical than his self-sacrificing friend could exist. Did Kendall honestly think his life was worth so little that no one would bother looking for him when he was gone? It was the most selfish act a person could commit, because now Logan, James and Carlos had to spend the rest of their incompetent lives knowing they were alive only because Kendall had died to save them.

No noble person would put that on a friend.

Because Kendall had to be dead, right? Logan wouldn't ever admit it to Carlos, or even James—though Logan suspected the taller boy thought similarly—but it had to be true. Chris was a violent, dangerous man obviously suffering from an unstable psychological condition or two. He had a gun. He had Kendall. Gun plus psycho plus Kendall equals death. It was a simple equation.

And Kendall had _wanted_ to go with the man. Kendall had begged and pleaded for Chris to take him instead. Why? Because Kendall was trying to play hero and save the day like he always did? Because Kendall didn't want what ultimately happened to Logan, Carlos and James to happen to _him_? Because he didn't want to live life knowing he caused the death of someone else?

All the guilt, all the fear, all the grief Kendall would have had was suddenly dumped on them, because Kendall couldn't handle it.

What made him think _they_ could?

Carlos's breathing suddenly hitched. Logan stiffened, expecting his friend had been yanked from his dreams. But Carlos only whimpered softly, kicked out a leg, and snuggled closer to Logan. He nestled his face to Logan's chest before his breathing evened.

Logan felt his cheeks grow hot. Okay, so maybe that_ was_ a little embarrassing.

"Is he sleeping?"

Logan turned at the unexpected voice and saw James, who had his sleepy eyes half-open and his head lifted off the mattress.

"I think so," Logan whispered. He chanced a small poke at Carlos's shoulder. The sleeping boy didn't stir.

"Finally," James murmured. He began to sit upright, using careful and slow movements as not to shake the bed. He yawned. "Should we bring him to his room?"

Logan shook his head, glancing down at his friend. Carlos's body was heavy and warm leaning against his, and although it was surely awkward and a little weird having his male friend at such close contact, Logan felt useful knowing Carlos was so dependent on him. "We can all just stay in here," Logan said to James, keeping his voice low. "Want to grab some blankets or something?"

James agreed. He stood, rubbed tiredly at his face, then shuffled sluggishly out of the room.

Logan finally allowed his eyes to flutter shut. Sleep begged to take over him. He hadn't rested since the start of the journey in the stolen car, when he had pulled over near Hermanville.

He was halfway to a nightmare when James returned with an armful of blankets and pillows. He dropped them in a heap on the floor, then sank to his hands and knees to spread them out on the carpet.

Logan lightly shifted once more, suddenly eager to get Carlos off him so he could regain a normal feeling in his leg and arm. When James finished the makeshift beds he stepped in front of Logan and held out his arms. "Okay, help me out."

Cautiously, Logan leaned forward with Carlos still clinging to him. Surprisingly, Carlos didn't wake. James slipped both arms beneath Carlos's body while Logan grabbed his feet, and together the two lowered their sleeping friend onto one pile of blankets. When Carlos touched the floor, he mumbled something unintelligible and buried his face into a pillow. He hugged his arms against his body and then went still.

Now on his feet, Logan let out a small, thankful moan as the pressure was at long last lifted from his limbs. He stretched both arms into the air, feeling temporarily lightheaded as blood rushed to his brain.

James reached down and gently tossed a blanket over the soft rise and fall of Carlos's chest. He stared at his friend for a moment, eyes glinting apologetically. Then he turned to Logan. "Can we all go to sleep now?"

"Yeah. Want to toss me a shirt?"

James complied, walking over to Logan's dresser and grabbing the first top his fingers touched. He tossed the shirt to Logan, who was already peeling off the garment covering his body. Several damp spots that were Carlos's tears stained the fabric. Logan threw on the fresh shirt as James went to hit the lights.

"You can sleep up there if you want," said James, nodding towards the bed. "It's your room." He flipped the light switch. Everything fell in shadow, despite the hour of the morning.

"It's okay. I'll sleep down here," Logan replied. He slid to the floor, being mindful of Carlos, and collapsed onto one of the blankets James had spread on the floor. He groped around for another in the darkness, then tugged it over his body. He might have fallen asleep just then, but the annoying nag in his brain told him to make sure Carlos was snug.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" James whispered, finding an open spot next to Logan on the floor.

Logan shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, I think so." He tentatively pulled Carlos's blanket up to Carlos's chin. "He's probably still a little disoriented from the concussion. The doctor told him to get some sleep, and he's been up ever since we left the hospital, besides that hour he got in the car. I'm sure he'll sleep it off and be better in the morning."

There was a long pause as Logan deemed Carlos comfortable and then proceeded to snuggle into his own blankets. The floor was hard, and the covers didn't offer much cushion, but he was too exhausted to care.

"I meant Kendall."

Logan froze. He didn't answer.

"I mean," started James, voice strained and taut with emotion, "you heard what Gustavo said about that Chris guy. I know Kendall's strong, but… You were there, you saw what he looked like tied to that chair." James sniffled. "He didn't even look like Kendall anymore."

"Shh," Logan warned as Carlos rolled over. "Keep it down."

"Even if by some miracle we do get him back… You know he's never going to be the same, right?"

Tears filled Logan's eyes. He could barely choke out the words. "I know."

James fell quiet.

With Kendall once again on his mind, Logan broke out into a sweat and bit down on his lower lip so hard he tasted blood. He closed his eyes and could still feel Carlos's needy grip on his t-shirt, still hear the sobs of both his friends as they broke down.

And it was Kendall's fault. All of it.

"Do you hate him?" Logan whispered over to James. He gritted his teeth together as the hotness in his chest increased.

"Who?"

"Kendall."

James hesitated, then said slowly, "No. Why, do you?"

Logan chuckled humorlessly and shook his head. "I never thought I could feel this way towards someone else," he admitted. "I never thought I could hate someone."

James sighed and rolled over dismissively, facing his back towards Logan. "You don't hate him, Logan. You just hate what he did."

"Close enough for me," Logan muttered.

"He saved our lives. How could you think you hate him?"

Logan shot up with a growl of fury. "Because I didn't ask to be saved," he spat. "Come on, you have to be thinking the same thing. Didn't he care at all? Didn't he stop to think about how this would affect us, knowing our best friend got himself killed while trying to protect us?"

James flopped over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, pensively setting his jaw. Logan quickly wiped his wet eyes and lowered his voice. "James, I can't—… I can't even think straight, man. I just… I just wish he would have talked to us before he jumped into this. If he would have come to us we could have figured out a plan, called the police, done something. Because there had to be a way out, right? But instead Kendall had to take matters into his own hands, like he always does."

James said nothing.

Logan fluffed his pillow and laid back down. "And for that I hate him," he murmured, and the words felt good on his tongue.

* * *

James James James James James.

Stop it. Stop thinking about him.

_Tip-tap tip-tap tip-tap._

Was the pipe dripping faster?

"Shut _up_," Kendall groaned, covering his ears. His right foot was cold from lack of sock, but he was seriously considering placing his other underneath the drip if it meant even a few minutes of relief from the unremitting noise.

His fingers were numb from the cold. Sticking his hands beneath his armpits helped warm them for a while, but when the position became too uncomfortable and he was forced to remove them, it took only minutes for his fingers to once again lose their feeling. At one point, he considered standing and doing some jumping jacks. It was what the kids in Minnesota did when there was a fire drill in the middle of winter, or when they had to stand at the bus stop when the windchill was thirty below.

But he couldn't. He was too fatigued, too exhausted. Every wound burned and stung. He needed food. He needed water. He needed to know Carlos and Logan were okay.

What if they weren't? What if they had been killed like James had?

"Stop it stop it stop it," Kendall chanted, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn't think about that possibility. He just couldn't.

He instead did what he had been doing for the past hour. He huddled in the corner of the black closet and pressed his back against the wall. The wall was cold and hard, but if he really exercised his imagination he could fool himself into thinking it was the sturdy body of someone he loved, snuggled close beside him. Mostly he pretended it was Mrs. Knight. He remembered times when he was young. He'd have a nightmare and be too afraid to stay alone in his dark bedroom, so he'd find his way to his mother's and sleep beside her, where he was warm and safe and nothing could harm him.

Other times he thought of Jo, and how she never expected him to be strong all the time. And only once did he think of Logan, as he remembered how his friend had held him up back at the warehouse.

The seclusion brought other thoughts. Ones more terrifying.

Like, what if Kendall did somehow get free? What if Carlos and Logan were safe, and Kendall made it back to them? They'd hate him. They'd hate him for letting James get killed, and Kendall couldn't blame them.

How could he expect others to forgive him when he would never forgive himself?

James James James James James.

Why did _James _have to be the one to die? He was too talented. He was going to be a big star one day. Logan was probably going to discover the cure for the world's deadliest disease, and Carlos could make the grumpiest person smile. If anyone deserved to die, it was Kendall.

Because what could he do that someone else couldn't?

All his miserable thoughts vanished when he heard footsteps outside. Kendall quickly dropped to his stomach on the moist ground and peered underneath the door. He watched dark shadows move in synch with the noise of heels scraping against the floor. The pipe seemed to quit dripping when the footsteps grew closer.

The lock clicked. Kendall jumped in fright and scrambled to sit upright. As the doorknob twisted he touched his back against the far wall once more.

The door opened, and immediately a warm gush of air floated in. Kendall squinted and held up his hands to shield his face. The light wasn't very bright, but since he had been staring at a black wall for the past several hours his eyes weren't used to the sudden intrusion. At long last he peered through his fingers and saw Chris standing in the doorway, towering over him and casting a long shadow in the corner of the closet. He wore the same clothes as before; he was just a casual man to anyone on the streets. No one else would see the grays of his steely eyes, or the way his lip seemed to always be curled upwards in a baleful leer.

"Look up," he said. His voice was quiet, calm and smooth—the complete opposite of what it had been earlier.

Kendall gritted his teeth, seething. He rubbed at his sore eyes and purposefully stared at the ground. It wasn't the best move, because now he could see he had been laying on a bed of soot and mold, and it made his heart ache for home.

From the corner of his eye, Kendall noticed Chris reveal something in his hands. "I don't want to hurt you," he assured, words spoken soothingly. "Just look up for a few seconds and I won't have to hurt you."

Kendall complied solely out of curiosity. He was desperate for human contact; a punch didn't sound too bad at the moment. But he wouldn't allow his need to be fulfilled by the man partly responsible for the death of his friend.

Chris held out a digital camera and snapped a picture. The flash was blindingly bright, and made Kendall hiss and reel back. His body began to involuntarily shake. He cursed at himself for being so afraid of the man. Chris probably wouldn't kill him yet; obviously the guy needed Kendall for something, or else Kendall would have been dead by now.

"This is for proof you're alive," Chris informed. "If you just sit tight, you'll be out of here soon."

His heart jumped in his chest. He wasn't sure what Chris meant, but it sounded like good news for Kendall. Perhaps the police knew Kendall was with Chris, and the police were negotiating to get him back.

Kendall sucked in a deep breath. He loathed speaking to Chris. He hated the thought of the man knowing what his voice sounded like. But if there was ever a time to put aside his pride, it was now. "I'm not going anywhere," Kendall started slowly, his voice scratchy from disuse, "until I know Logan and Carlos are alright."

It made him sick to his stomach to stare at Chris's shadowy face, but he did anyway to prove he was serious. Chris matched the stare with a glower so stony and eerily frightening Kendall could have screamed.

Chris sighed through his nose and tucked the camera into the back pocket of his jeans. He licked his lips. "You know, at first, I had my doubts this plan would work." His tone was back to oil. Kendall wasn't sure of the specifics of the 'plan,' but decided not to interrupt.

"I thought you'd be too scared to willingly go with Jace and Rodney. But then I remembered…" Chris paused, thinking. "You really care about your bandmates, don't you? And you'd do anything for them?"

Kendall's persistent glare didn't falter, giving the man his answer.

"But I just don't understand _why_. Why do you worry so much about them? They're your coworkers. Just friends." The volume of his voice increased. "You act like they're your family, but they're not. You're not blood."

Kendall raised his eyebrows in surprise. His captor sounded genuinely curious. Jealousy, perhaps? He wasn't sure.

He didn't care.

"Family doesn't have to mean blood," Kendall countered. Passion swelled in his chest. The way it energized him and fueled his body made him momentarily think it was hope.

There was a long, uneasy silence between them. Then Chris asked softly, "Who are they to you?"

Kendall swallowed and fidgeted nervously. "I grew up with them," he explained cautiously. "I can't remember my life without them. It's just always been us four." His throat tightened. "We went to school together, been on the same teams. We've spent holidays together. Sometimes I think I know them better than I know my little sister."

James James James James James.

Kendall's vision blurred. "They're my brothers."

"Your family is your weakness," Chris said bitterly. "The more people you let into that circle, the more you're going to get hurt."

"My family is my strength," Kendall snapped. Anger bubbled inside him at the patronizing way Chris stood. He realized then that he preferred the drippy pipe and the icy wall for company rather than the man before him.

Kendall spoke through clenched teeth. "You need to understand that I am the last person whose family you want to mess with. And unfortunately for you, you already did."

Chris crossed his arms. A challenge. "What are you going to do about it?"

Kendall mustered every ounce of strength left in his bones. "You'll find out." He was tired of looking at Chris, so in a swift movement he leaned forward and reached for the doorknob. Chris promptly groped for something at his waist, but Kendall had already pulled the closet door shut.


	23. Weakness

**A/N: Finally got another chapter up! After this, some awesome action starts to happen. I am so excited to write it! But motivation always makes it easier. Won't you please leave a review? :D Oh, and some of you noticed last chapter, but I have decided to leave Jo in the story. It's not like she's going to be majorly involved in the story or anything, but still. The voters have spoken. Democracy, eh?  
****Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

**Warnings: References to violence, hurt/comfort, angst, mild language, Chris being creepy. Un-beta'd.**

* * *

Chapter 23  
Weakness

Carlos woke with a gasp. His frightened eyes darted across the dark room as he struggled to comprehend his location. His entire body shook from the powerful hammering of his heart. As he gulped and fought to suck in air, he quickly felt around the floor.

Wait. The floor. Why was he on the floor?

There were blankets and pillows and an arm and a leg and… Oh, that was Logan. Okay. Home. He was at home. In Logan's room. And there was James, over on the other side of Logan's sleeping form.

Carlos scrubbed a hand over his sweaty face as his rapid breathing slowly calmed and his bearings rushed back. A pounding headache had him craving for an aspirin. With a groan he cradled his aching head, trying to ignore the tender lump on one side. He'd had plenty of concussions before. They were no fun.

As a sudden realization dawned upon him, Carlos fumbled blindly for his hockey helmet. It wasn't on his head, and he remembered removing it while Logan had held him…

His cheeks flushed red at the memory. He located his helmet on the floor in front of the bed and quickly secured it over his head. When he glanced back at Logan and James, silent and motionless in their sleep, he wondered how they'd look at him when they woke.

Carlos wasn't stupid. He caught the sideways glances often thrown his way in public, and the way people straightened their posture and stuck out their chins when they thought they were smarter than him. But Carlos wasn't bothered by the judgment of strangers, because strangers were people he'd only see once in his life and then never have to deal with again. If his friends made an assumption, he'd have to see it on their faces forever.

He wasn't sure what had come over him. Once he started crying he just couldn't stop, no matter how hard he tried or how long Logan or James held onto him. As soon as they woke up they'd be giving him those looks; the ones he dreaded to see.

Carlos sighed and took another minute to calm himself. He was about to lay down on his makeshift bed when he realized he needed to use the bathroom. But he couldn't go by himself, right? No. No, he had to stay here, where he could see Logan and James.

But he really had to go. And if he left the room by himself, someone could get him.

Carlos's eyes quickly scanned the room for a weapon. Logan's hockey stick was propped against the wall beside the door; perhaps he'd carry it with him on his way to the bathroom. But what if he wasn't strong enough? What if he hurt his head again, and couldn't focus on one thing long enough to understand what was unfolding around him?

He whimpered quietly as he contemplated his options. Maybe just one person could accompany him. That way he'd have backup in the event of an attack.

Remembering Logan was the last person to comfort him when he had been acting like a stupid little kid, Carlos crawled on his hands and knees around his sleeping friend and over to James. James laid on his stomach, arms hugging a pillow and his mouth hanging slightly open. A pang of guilt surged through Carlos's stomach at the thought of waking his friend, and he hesitated, hand hovering above James's shoulder. He whimpered once more and pulled his hand back, hopelessly conflicted. Maybe he could go by himself. Maybe he could handle things on his own.

Tears of frustration pricked at his eyes, because he knew he was lying to himself.

Carlos took a deep breath and finally nudged his friend's shoulder. "James."

James shrugged away the touch and made a noise somewhere between an annoyed grunt and a whine.

"James?"

"Whaaat?" he drawled. His eyelids fluttered open for a second, but when he saw it was only Carlos, he gave Carlos _that look_, then rolled over.

"I have to pee."

"So what are you telling me for?" James grumbled irritably, eyes shut. "Go pee."

Carlos bit down on his lower lip. He turned his head to look at Logan, who hadn't stirred in the slightest. He faced James and fiddled nervously with the hem of his shirt. "Can, um, can you come with me and, like, stand outside the door or something?"

James sighed tiredly. "Carlos…"

"I'm sorry." He sniffled pathetically and averted his eyes to the floor. "Please?"

"Mmmph," James muttered, and burrowed further into his blankets. Carlos assumed it meant no. He fidgeted uncomfortably and wondered if he could hold it until the guys woke for the day. Upon looking at the clock he noticed it was morning, but the room was bathed in darkness. He remembered having to use the bathroom while being in the car, and how it had been suggested Carlos use an empty bottle. But he didn't think there were any of those in Logan's room, and he really had to go, but he couldn't go by himself, and now he was probably going to cry again because he didn't know what to do…

"Fine," came a muffled, grudged reply. "Let's go." James flipped the covers off his body and slowly climbed to his feet. He walked to the door without bothering to see if Carlos was behind him.

Scrambling to his feet, Carlos hurried behind his taller friend. He checked over his shoulder to make sure Logan remained undisturbed. Logan appeared sound, so Carlos proceeded down the dark hall. He stuck close to James as James shuffled languidly into the main room of the apartment. Carlos kept his eyes on the ground to avoid catching glimpses of moving shadows that he knew would frighten him.

"Sorry," murmured Carlos when he accidentally stepped on James's heel.

James just rubbed sleepily at his eyes and carried on without response.

Carlos flipped on the bathroom light when he entered, and immediately squinted as his eyes adjusted to the brightness.

"So, why am I here?" James asked, yawning.

Carlos felt some heat creep into his cheeks. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "Just, um, stand by the doorframe so I can see you. And face the other way." He took James by the shoulders and guided him into the appropriate location. From inside the bathroom Carlos had a clear, satisfying view of James's left shoulder.

"Close your eyes," he instructed.

"Trust me, dude, I'm not going to look."

Carlos closed the bathroom door about halfway shut, just enough to see James's presence outside the door. He relieved himself quickly, and stole a glance at the door when he was finished. He saw the sleeve of James's shirt and instantly felt more comfortably knowing he wasn't alone. An image of Kendall flashed through his brain at the thought, and Carlos wondered how Kendall was doing all by himself. Surely Kendall was fine. The things that had happened were terrifying, but maybe the memories would be a little less scary once Kendall came home. Because Kendall _would_ come home. Kendall was Kendall, and Kendall could do anything.

Secure in mind and blissfully at ease, Carlos approached the sink to wash his hands. He rubbed some soap onto his palms and remembered he hadn't taken a shower in quite some time. He should probably do that soon. His mom used to hide air fresheners in his room if he ever went more than a day without bathing…

Carlos's stomach dropped to his feet and he fumbled the towel in his hands when he glanced up.

James was gone.

"James!" he shrieked in terror. He burst out of the bathroom with damp hands and frightened tears already leaping to his eyes.

Thankfully, James hadn't strayed far from his post. He turned from where he was standing by the kitchen sink, a glass of water in his hands.

"James!" Carlos screamed again. When the initial fear wore off, his cheeks warmed from anger. "You just left me!"

Obviously confused, James scrunched up his brow and held out his hands defensively. "Dude, I was like ten feet away getting a drink—"

"You were supposed to stay where I could see you! That's what I said! That's what you agreed to do!"

"Carlos, man, calm down."

He didn't realize that he had begun sobbing, and he was breathing so hard that black spots danced across his vision. He teetered slightly on his feet and feared he'd topple over, but James abandoned his cup to instead seize both of Carlos's forearms.

"Carlos, hey. Hey. Stop. Look at me."

But he couldn't stop. How could James tell him to _stop_? It didn't work like that. He couldn't just tell his eyes to quit watering and his mouth to quit gasping. If Carlos could force himself to stop, he'd never cry at all. He'd never have to worry about that look James gave him.

James kept Carlos steady as Carlos lowered his head and tried to suck in a few calming breaths. His entire face felt hot and wet, and the churning in his stomach made him nauseous.

He probably stood in the kitchen and cried for quite a while; Carlos wasn't exactly sure, because the notion of time was lost whenever he was upset. He finally looked up when James removed a hand from Carlos's arm. James passed Carlos the glass of water and told him to drink. Carlos accepted it shyly, and after a few more sniffles eventually lifted the glass to his lips. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and felt a little better.

"Come on. I think you should sleep some more," James said, gently. He took Carlos by the shoulders and began to guide him through the kitchen area. Sleep didn't sound like such a bad idea. Because if Carlos slept, that meant he couldn't think about how unintentionally childish he had been.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Carlos asked James as the two continued towards the hall.

"What do you mean?"

"For crying all the time." He stopped and rubbed the remaining tears from his eyes. "Do you think that's stupid?"

James frowned. "No, Carlos. If crying made you stupid, then we'd all be a bunch of idiots."

"I thought we _were_ a bunch of idiots."

James shrugged.

"But…," Carlos started timidly, still unsatisfied. "But it's okay, right?"

"What?"

"That I was crying?"

James gave Carlos's back a tiny shove to coax him to keep going. "Why are you even asking me?" he wondered impatiently.

Carlos breathed easier when he at long last saw Logan's sleeping form, calm and quiet, with a fluffy blanket draped protectively over his body and his head sinking into a pillow. "Never mind," he murmured to James, then buried himself in his own blanket cocoon. He only cried for a few minutes this time, but he still didn't know why.

* * *

Chris had only been gone for what Kendall estimated to be a half hour. Then footsteps were heard, and Kendall once again rolled onto his stomach and peered beneath the door to watch the shadows. The footsteps paced back and forth for about a minute, then stopped. A paper bag rustled. The shadows moved. Stopped. Moved. Stopped. Moved. Finally, the lock clicked and the door opened.

Kendall wasn't afraid anymore. His heart, his blood—anything inside him which pumped and made him feel alive was numbed and seemingly still. He pulled himself upright with his back against the wall and legs stretched out on the filthy ground before him. He could barely keep his eyes open, and it wasn't just because of the hunger, the thirst, or the exhaustion. It was because of hopelessness. And if the countless physical ailments didn't take his life, the emotional ones would. Mustering enough energy to lift his hand to his face to feel the wounds on his skin, or cradling the cut along his arm which never seemed to stop hurting, seemed like impossible tasks.

He could hardly lift his gaze to look Chris in the face. He did enjoy the light that opened up before him, how it warmed his skin and chased away the dark. There was never a sight more beautiful than the healing sun, and if he could have stretched out and basked in the warmth, Kendall figured it would give him a little more life, and maybe the strength to push away a couple miserable thoughts dwelling within him.

The crinkling of paper alerted Kendall to the fact Chris had knelt in the doorway of the closet. Kendall's heartbeat continued its slow, steady pace.

"Here," said Chris. His face was emotionless, but his voice had a hint of curiosity and maybe even uncertainty, as if he were offering a handful of feeding pellets to an animal at the zoo.

Kendall's eyes focused on the object in the man's hand. It had to be a trick. There was no way Chris was handing him a bag of food from a local fast food joint. As Kendall struggled to comprehend the shocking event unfolding, Chris placed the bag on the ground and slid it closer to Kendall.

Kendall blinked several times. He searched Chris's face, looking for a hint of deception or anything that would tell him it was all a lie. But there was nothing there. Nothing there at all.

Cautiously, Kendall pulled his legs to his chest. An unsteady hand reached out towards the bag and seized it by the folded top. His pulse quickened just a bit, fearing disappointment. It was heavy in his hands. Slowly, he opened the bag and tried to shake away the feeling of Chris's hard stare.

Kendall's eyes widened. Food.

He tore the wrappings off whatever thing they covered. To his delight, it was a sub sandwich. Kendall hastily lifted the bun and saw turkey, lettuce, cheese, mayo, and probably something else, but he didn't really care and had already shoved part of the sandwich into his mouth. It was the best thing he'd ever eaten. Better than tater tots and French fries and fish sticks or anything Mrs. Knight cooked. It was better than his favorite restaurant, or those pies his grandma baked and left sitting on the windowsill. He chewed hurriedly, but didn't miss any taste bursting across his tongue. The lettuce was crisp, the turkey was tender, the bun was fresh, and a dab of mayonnaise stuck to the corner of his mouth.

Kendall was so absorbed in filling his empty stomach that he barely noticed when Chris produced a bottle of water and rolled it along to the floor towards Kendall. The sandwich didn't leave Kendall's mouth as he grabbed the plastic bottle with his unoccupied hand and pulled it closer.

He figured he should slow his eating. He could practically hear Logan lecturing him with his infinite medical knowledge, telling Kendall if he continued shoveling food into his mouth after having gone days without, he'd throw it all up and then be back to having nothing to eat—not to mention he'd be locked in the closet with the smell of his own vomit. So, slowly, reluctantly, Kendall forced his jaw to chew slower. Half the sandwich was already gone, and his stomach growled in thanks.

Chris just watched, appearing fascinated. He allowed Kendall another large bite before he spoke. "You want to know why you're here?"

Frankly, Kendall didn't really care about _why_ he was with Chris. At least, not anymore. He just wanted to know what happened to Carlos and Logan. He just wanted to know his remaining friends were alive. Whatever scheme Chris had been planning didn't matter at all.

Chris sat cross-legged in the doorway, as if preparing to have a friendly conversation. "Your boss used to be my boss," he started. "We worked together for a while, but then he fired me. Why'd he fire me?" His eyes shined bright. "Why'd he fire me?"

He seemed to be looking for an answer from Kendall. A little disturbed, Kendall wiped his mouth with his tattered shirt sleeve and shrugged.

Chris seemed satisfied with the response, and paused for a moment before he continued. "I couldn't find work after that," he explained to Kendall, who was only half-listening. "Went broke. Do you know what's that's like, not having a dime to your name?" His face morphed into an expression of bitterness. "I found this place and squatted here for a while. Did you know not one person actually lives on this entire block? Not legally, anyway."

Kendall didn't want to have to set down his sandwich to take a drink, so he continued eating hungrily. He was no longer a tame animal at the zoo, but a savage beast in the wild.

"But you don't care about that," Chris deduced. "That's okay. That's okay. You don't need to care. It's not you who I wanted. It really isn't. You didn't deserve any of this. Not really."

Kendall froze.

"See, Gustavo is who I wanted. I've struggled for years just trying to put food on the table. I begged Gustavo for my job back, I got on my hands and knees. I wouldn't cause trouble anymore. If he hired me back, I wouldn't cause trouble. I _wouldn't_." Chris clenched his fists and gritted his teeth together. Kendall watched silently, not daring to move an inch. A half-chewed bite of turkey and cheese was still in his mouth, but he refrained from swallowing until Chris calmed down.

"But that wasn't good enough for him. So I decided I had to do it. I had to kill him."

Chris now had Kendall's full attention. This whole thing had been a ploy to get to Gustavo, Chris's ex-boss?

Kendall looked down at his hands and saw they were empty. But he was still hungry. He finally grabbed the water bottle and twisted open the cap. He downed half the bottle in a few large swallows. The cool liquid soothed his aching throat and helped fill his stomach. He swished the water in his mouth and wet his lips. It felt almost as good as the food.

"I couldn't just go do it, though," Chris said. "I couldn't just kill him. Have you ever seen his house? It's not even a house. It's a _mansion_. Can't even imagine the security he must have surrounding the place. So I had this idea…" Chris trailed off and watched Kendall take another drink of water. Feeling uncomfortable, Kendall removed the bottle from his lips.

Chris continued. "I know Gustavo's close with Big Time Rush. So I thought of the best way to get to him with the least amount of police involvement as possible." Chris smiled. "I found _you._ And made it seem like you ran away. Because you are so protective of those other guys, right? You said you think of them as family. You look like a family sort of guy. I bet you love them a lot, huh? So all I had to do was threaten to hurt them, and I instantly had you in the palm of my hand." His smile turned into a haughty, triumphant grin. "Like I said before, your family is your weakness."

Kendall set his jaw. His fist twitched.

"You did everything perfectly. You left them just like the note told you to. After that, it was easy. All I had to do was snap a picture of you with a few bruises and make the same threat to Gustavo. Except, guess what? No one was looking for Gustavo, because I told him to make it seem like he was out of town on business!" He broke off laughing.

Kendall shifted positions slightly, looking for the best angle to land a punch. He fought down his overwhelming questions, trying his hardest to keep his mind blank until Chris was done foolishly presenting his information.

"Just cause you're a little bit famous doesn't mean the cops are going to launch an entire investigation to look for you. Do you know how many kids run away in this city?" His tone darkened, and the shadows seemed to return to his face. The amusement from his previous narration was gone. "So I don't know how they found us."

What?

Kendall immediately loosened his tense muscles. His jaw fell slack and the water bottle nearly slipped from his grip. The cops? The cops had found them? What did Chris mean? Kendall opened his mouth to speak, but Chris beat him to it.

"Gustavo showed up in Redgrove like I knew he would. But three other people showed up, too. I don't know why. Why did they show up? They weren't supposed to show up." He rambled almost as though he were a child recounting the day's events. Kendall inwardly cursed at the man and urged him to hurry up.

"At first I thought it was bad," Chris said, scratching absently at his head. "But then I realized that the remaining members of Big Time Rush had found their way to me. I could use them. Offer a ransom, maybe get enough money to buy a place of my own."

"What about the police?" Kendall interrupted, unable to hold his tongue any longer. "What were you saying about the police?"

Chris blinked and raised an eyebrow. "I thought you knew."

"Knew _what_?"

A grin slowly curved the corners of Chris's lips. For an agonizingly long moment he seemed genuinely pleased. But then his demeanor changed yet again, like the flip of a switch. He suddenly seemed fidgety and a little nervous, and the energy was rubbing off on Kendall. "I get angry sometimes," Chris admitted gravely. "Really angry. Back in Redgrove, Jace wanted you out of the room since you were causing trouble. So I decided I was going to kill you. Behind the building. I was going to do it. I swear I was going to do it."

Kendall's blood ran cold.

"But then I heard sirens. You were screaming so loud that you probably didn't hear them. Hell, you were so loud I couldn't even think straight. But I knew if I shot you then, the police would hear the noise and come running over. I did the only thing I could do. I took you with me, and I started the whole plan all over again."

Kendall brushed the sandwich wrappings away and ignored the water bottle that went flying in the opposite direction. In his frenzy he scrambled to sit on his knees and practically lurched forward, aiming to grab his captor by the collar of his shirt. Chris reached for something at his waist, and Kendall immediately resisted shaking some answers out of the man. "Wait, wait," he said, feeling breathless in his state of anxiousness. "The police, they came after we left? After we got in your car? So… So Carlos and Logan… They're…?" He could barely get the words to form. He swallowed a lump in his throat and tried again. "They're okay? They're alive?"

Chris seemed to ignore Kendall completely. "When you fell asleep in the car I tried to call Jace and Rodney. No one answered, so I figured they were caught. Sure enough, it's all over the news. The police… they know my name, they know my face. But they don't know about this place. They'd never think to look here, in Los Angeles."

Kendall practically begged. "Please," he said—the last word he ever thought he'd use while with his captor. "You have to tell me. Logan and Carlos, my friends—are they okay? Are they at home?" After a long pause with Chris just staring at him, Kendall tried once more with so much desperation in his voice that it cracked. "_Please_."

There was an almost unnoticeable rise and fall of Chris's shoulders. Then, he said casually, "Probably."

Kendall relaxed, stunned. His eyes lost their focus and turned blank as his mind struggled to wrap around everything he had just heard. He'd spent the last however-many hours mourning the death of James, and wondering if he'd have to go through the same agonizing grief twice more.

But no. Logan and Carlos were safe. Somehow, they'd been rescued by police. They weren't in danger anymore.

And if they weren't in danger, it meant Kendall didn't have to be, either.

He could have laughed. He could have leapt to his feet and jumped in the air. He never knew such a mixture of relief and elation could exist, especially after the tragedy of losing James.

Kendall suddenly remembered his boss. "Gustavo too?" he pressed.

Chris didn't answer, which wasn't surprising. Kendall took the lack of response as a reaction of disappointment; yes, Gustavo was safe too.

He breathed easier.

"I wanted him to suffer for what he did to me," Chris said, anger creeping into his voice. "I'd let him die eventually… but first I had to let him know. I had to let him know everything. Everything he did to me." He growled, "Then you had to act up and the damn cops had to come."

The anger didn't faze Kendall. Nothing could faze him ever again.

"But it's okay. This is just a minor inconvenience. Everything will work out. I've told Gustavo what he needs to know. Now he just needs to die." The creepy smirk returned, and Chris leaned forward in order to dig into the back pocket of his jeans. "Want to know how you get a man in protective custody to show up at your doorstep? You show him this." He held out the digital camera he had earlier and let Kendall see the display screen. An image of Kendall appeared, beaten and defeated, slumped in the corner of the closet. "This will make Gustavo find a way to come to me without the police. You're his weakness."

Perhaps Chris was right, but it didn't matter. Kendall wouldn't let the situation come to that. He'd be long gone before Gustavo had a chance to even receive Chris's photograph. Chris's plan was risky and flawed, and Kendall was fairly certain if he endured the confines of the closet for maybe a day longer, the police would find him and take him home.

But he couldn't wait that long.

Chris's tone became fatherly, like it had been a couple times before. He cocked his head to the side, examining Kendall carefully. He stuck out a hand and tried to push back some of the blond hair sticking to Kendall's forehead. "You're beautiful," Chris said, tenderly.

Kendall slapped the hand away. "Don't touch me," he snapped.

Before Chris left and locked the door behind him, promising to bring more food at lunchtime, Kendall was punched. But it didn't bother him. The pain reminded him that he'd been here long enough.

It was time to go home.


	24. A Clap of Thunder

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter! Finally got this one done. Forgive the typeos that I know have hidden from me.  
Review? :)**

**Warnings: Angst, violence. Un-beta'd.**

* * *

Chapter 24  
A Clap of Thunder

James woke to screaming.

As he bolted upwards, his hand instinctively reached out to locate Carlos and Logan to make sure they were still there. It seemed like something Kendall would have done. But as James's hand touched Logan's leg, James realized it was Logan who was doing the screaming.

Carlos was wide-eyed, clutching his blanket to his chest in horror as he recoiled away from his shrieking friend.

James shook away the initial shock and was instantly wide awake. He climbed over the mound of pillows and blankets spread over the floor and took Logan by the shoulders. "Logan, hey. Hey!" He gave Logan a hard shake.

Logan blinked and ceased his cries as he seemingly broke away from the nightmare that had its claws wrapped around his mind. For a moment he looked as though he would burst into tears. But as panicky as Logan could be, he did possess the necessary willpower to control himself. Sometimes he could find it, sometimes he couldn't.

"Kendall?" Logan gasped. He continued blinking hard, no doubt trying to clear away the horrible images still freshly lingering in his mind. His body trembled beneath James's grip, and as Logan unevenly inhaled, the expression on his face told James that Logan had caught his mistake.

James loosened his hold on Logan's shoulders. Logan pulled him back by fisting James's collar. "I'm sorry," he said, and lowered his head. "James, I'm sorry."

"For what?" James asked gently. He slowly pried Logan's hand from his shirt and lowered them to his sides.

"Where's Carlos?" Logan broke from the contact and hurriedly turned his head to locate his shivering friend, who was covering his ears and looking terrified. "Hey, relax," Logan told him. "It's okay. I'm fine." He reached out and patted Carlos's knee reassuringly.

Carlos nodded reluctantly.

Mrs. Knight burst into the room. "What happened? Is everything okay?" She paused and examined Logan and the sheen of sweat across his face, and Carlos and James's disconcerting looks.

"It's okay," Logan quickly repeated. "Just a bad dream."

James's gaze shifted between his friend and the nervous mother at the door. Mrs. Knight pushed a hand through her hair as her tense shoulders finally sagged. "Okay," she breathed, then took another moment to calm herself. "It's about lunchtime. Let me make you guys something to eat, huh?"

"I'm not hungry," Carlos murmured, hugging his blanket closer. James never thought he'd hear those words come from his friend's mouth.

"I'm not either," admitted Mrs. Knight. "But I can't imagine you three have eaten much of anything aside from sugar for the past few days. It would make me feel a lot better if you let me cook you something decent."

The three exchanged glances. James certainly wanted to please Kendall's mom, but was unsure if his stomachs could handle an intake of food. He didn't doubt the guys felt similarly.

Logan was the one who ultimately agreed for all of them. Mrs. Knight nodded appreciatively. She opened her mouth as if to say something further, but changed her mind and headed towards the kitchen.

"She probably doesn't like us anymore," Carlos said once she was gone. With his blanket draped over his shoulders, he rose to his feet and stretched his arms.

"Why do you say that?" wondered James.

"Because we left her and Katie by themselves, not to mention we painted her car." He rubbed awkwardly at his neck. "And it's kind of our fault that Kendall's gone."

"It is not _our_ fault," Logan growled defensively. "Just because Kendall left to protect us doesn't mean it's our fault. He's the one who chose to leave."

James raised his eyebrows at the unexpected anger of his friend. He recalled Logan bitterly admitting resent towards Kendall, but there was no way Logan actually meant it, right? James had passed it off as Logan being tired; weary from travel, drained from comforting Carlos all night, exhausted from fear and worry. James figured Logan was just aiming to find a focus for all the hate and betrayal he harbored inside, and mistakenly concentrated those emotions on Kendall, and not the man truly responsible for everyone's suffering.

Carlos squinted in thought. "But I thought he had to leave. He told us that, remember? I mean, I think I remember…" He began to trail off as he pondered, but Logan interrupted anyway.

"He could have went to the police. Chris or one of those other guys may have been threatening to hurt us, but what were the odds they'd actually come up to the apartment to do it? I mean, there's security cameras, witnesses… They would have to be the biggest idiots in the world to try something like that. You can't tell me Kendall was dumb enough to fall for it."

"But…," Carlos started, bottom lip quivering.

Logan opened his mouth to throw out more points, but James, eager to change the subject before another breakdown occurred, spoke before his friend had a chance. "Guys, can we please not fight about this now? Mrs. Knight needs us."

James could have put up an argument. He could have reminded Logan how hard it would have been to think straight in a situation such as the one Kendall had faced. He could have pointed out that Kendall valued his family more than anything, and wouldn't dare risk them getting hurt. He could have asked Logan why he felt betrayed instead of grateful, because James himself was clueless. But he held his tongue, partly for Carlos's sake, partly for his own.

Logan gave a grudged nod and pulled himself to his feet. James followed suit and headed towards the door. He walked the hall quietly, figuring Katie had finally fallen asleep somewhere. The last thing he wanted was to disturb her from much-needed slumber.

"Ow!" Logan yelped.

James peered over his shoulder and saw an apologetic Carlos as his foot accidentally came down on Logan's heel. James had a feeling it wouldn't be the last time it happened.

When the three emerged into the main room of the apartment, Mrs. Knight was spotted in the kitchen removing pans and silverware from various drawers in order to prepare some sort of meal. She smiled when she saw them, but it was obviously forced. She always appeared beautiful, but the fatigue was glaringly etched across her somber face.

James leaned against the kitchen counter. His stomach churned unpleasantly at the thought of food, but he figured for the sake of Kendall's mom, he'd at least try to eat. Carlos stood beside him a moment later, so close that their shoulders touched, and Logan took to standing awkwardly by the table.

"What'll it be?" Mrs. Knight asked. "Are you in the mood for breakfast food, maybe? Or something big? I can cook whatever you want."

She waited for a reply, but after several moments of silence it was clear she wasn't going to get one. A single suggestion refused to come to James's mind, as he was too occupied trying to figure out how Mrs. Knight could move about so breezily.

He watched as her gaze shifted from person to person. She must have noticed their defeated posture, the way their eyes could barely stay open, the wrinkles of their sleepwear, the blanket Carlos still refused to let go. Mrs. Knight sighed and placed the skillet she was holding onto the counter.

There was nothing but concern in her voice; the kind of concern only mothers could make sincere. "I've been thinking about this, and it would really mean a lot to me if you guys agreed to go speak with Dr. Connell. I think she can help."

"Mrs. Knight, we're—" James started to protest.

"Don't give me that, James."

His eyebrows flew up.

"Do not lie to me. You are not fine. None of you are—unless you think three hours of nightmares is okay."

Logan sheepishly looked at his feet. Carlos shuffled even closer to James.

"Just hear me out," Mrs. Knight said, exhaling a large breath. "I know at first it might seem awkward talking to a stranger about…" She cleared her throat. "About what happened. But therapy has been proven to be very beneficial. Logan, you of all people should know that." Her strong voice faltered only slightly; James caught the subtle unevenness in her words. "I just… I don't want you to get hurt anymore. Promise me you'll at least try it. And if you don't like it, then you don't have to go anymore. You know I'm always here if you need to talk. I just figured… well, I don't know if I'd be much help, considering…"

Her emotion got the best of her at the end of her speech, but James inwardly commended her for holding out for so long.

Logan was instantly walking towards her and wrapping his strong arms around her. "It's okay, Mrs. Knight. Don't worry. We'll go."

She held on for several long seconds. Her eyes were cloudy as she pulled away. "Thanks."

"Oh," Carlos piped up, "and, um, we're sorry about your car."

Logan blushed bright pink.

"Oh, it's alright," she replied with a playful roll of her eyes. "I know why you did it. You guys are so protective of your family, just like Kendall." She paused and lowered her voice. "I'm not sure if that's a quality about him that I hate, or a quality I love."

James watched as something in Logan's face changed. There was a flash in his eyes, a twitch of his muscles. James would have examined his friend's demeanor further, but Mrs. Knight twirled around and returned to fiddling with the pots and pans.

"It may just be my maternal instinct kicking into gear, but I have this feeling that Kendall's okay." She abandoned the skillet for a loaf of bread sitting atop the counter. "Somehow I just know he's alright, wherever he is."

"So you're not worried?" wondered James, surprised at her confidence.

"Are you kidding? Of course I'm worried. I've never been more afraid in my life. My baby boy is out there with a man whose goal in life is to kill Gustavo. He's alone and he's hurt, and I'm sure he's scared. But you know Kendall as well as I do. He'll come home to me." She smiled at them, and this time the smirk was real. "He'll come home to us."

Her assurance was realistic. It was true Kendall was the most driven person James knew. If Kendall wanted to come home, then he would come home.

James's worry was the fact that Kendall wasn't here yet.

A ringing cell phone ended the conversation. Mrs. Knight strode to her purse, which sat on the table. She checked the screen and her eyes grew wide. When she flipped open the device, she moved quickly to the living room and spoke low in hopes to be out of earshot.

James shared a look with his two friends. They casually inched forward, aiming to catch a word or two of the conversation. They registered several yeses, a couple okays, and one 'oh my goodness.' James's heartbeat quickened when Mrs. Knight ended the call and practically jogged back to the table.

"That was Officer McNair," she informed, stuffing the phone into her purse. "The man who has Kendall just sent an email to Gustavo."

"A picture of Kendall?" James exclaimed. "He's alive?"

Carlos gasped. Logan paled.

"They need me down at the station," Mrs. Knight answered. She hustled to the door and grabbed her coat. "Boys, what do you want me to do? Should I call someone to come over, or…?"

"We'll be fine by ourselves," Logan said, gesturing for her to go. "Don't worry about us."

"If Katie wakes up and needs me, tell her to call my cell. In fact, why don't you call me in an hour? Actually, make that half an hour. No, wait, I'll call you—"

"Mrs. Knight, we'll be fine. Promise."

She halted in her bustle to consider Logan's words. Then she nodded and gave a wave as she exited the apartment and closed the door behind her. The moment it shut, she opened it once more. "Love you," she called, and then she was gone.

When James turned, he saw Carlos in the kitchen standing next to Mrs. Knight's abandoned meal. A piece of bread was jammed into his mouth, and crumbs speckled the front of his shirt and blanket. He mumbled something with his mouth full.

"What'd he say?" James asked Logan, since Logan was the only person who had mastered Carlos's muffled speech.

"He asked if this means Kendall's coming home," replied Logan.

"Ammph?" wondered Carlos, reaching for a second slice.

Logan plopped onto one of the kitchen chairs and yawned. "I really hope so."

James fought to push away the small nagging inside him which said Logan wasn't telling the truth. To help distract himself, he asked Carlos to toss him a slice of bread. Maybe he was pretty hungry after all.

* * *

Kendall had managed to count to one hundred about three times. A quick mental calculation told him he had been motionless and listening for noises on the other side of the door for roughly five minutes.

It was long enough.

He blindly pulled himself to his feet in the damp closet. It could have been the food or it could have been the information, but either way, because of Chris, Kendall felt stronger. He could flex his muscles without intense pain and swallow without feeling as though his throat would tear in half. He could stand without lightheadedness, breathe without guilt, and maintain a rational thought for longer than a few seconds. Before, his mind had been too jumbled with grief and dread for him to do much else but wait for Chris to accomplish whatever it was he planned on accomplishing. Now, Kendall was the one with the plan:

Get out, get help, get home.

Getting out would be the easy part. As he ran his numbed hands over the worn, splintery wood of the closet door, he knew it wouldn't take much strength to bust it down. With his callused fingers he continued to feel the rough surface, searching for a protruding nail or anything sharp that would ultimately cause him trouble. The dripping pipe above plopped water onto the shoulder of his shirt, but it had quit its incessant chattering hours ago.

Once Kendall managed to get outside, flagging down help was going to be a challenge. Chris mentioned being in a rough neighborhood, so anyone walking on the streets could be a potential enemy, or someone who just didn't want to help. Then again, Kendall figured he was probably a little paranoid.

Returning home would be the most difficult part of the three stages of his plan. Because how did he know he'd even be welcomed home? Surely Mrs. Knight and Katie would be thrilled to see him alive, but what about his friends? Did he really want to see the looks on their faces?

Without any warning from his brain, Kendall found his forehead slumped against the cold door, and his teeth gritting together to stifle a sob.

He couldn't go home. Not now. Maybe not ever again. His friends would never trust him, never look at him the same way, never forgive him. His guilt would grow and grow with every day, every minute he looked at them, until it finally swallowed him whole.

The love of a friend was significantly different from the love of a family member. When friends did something bad—something teetering on the edge of unforgivable—the friendship was over. Friends came and went; therefore the desire to fix something wronged either diminished or was lost completely. It was why kids in middle school had a new buddy every week, and the ones in high school picked their closest few and stuck together to form a bond that reached beyond just sleepovers and study groups. Sometimes it seemed a miracle that Kendall, James, Carlos and Logan had remained friends for so long. But Kendall had declared them family, and with that inward promise he vowed to never let a dispute or poor decision tear them apart.

Why was family so different?

It seemed as though family always received second chances. Redemptive opportunities were much more scarce with just friends; Kendall remembered a handful of kids back in Minnesota who he'd chummed around with until conflict arose, such as Bobby Clarke, until he cheated off Kendall's math test, Billy Williams, until he told the entire eighth grade that Logan still slept with a teddy bear, and Cindy Smith, before she rudely dumped James in front of everyone at recess.

Kendall's three friends didn't belong to the group who weren't worth the effort. They were his family, which meant he would always accept them, always forgive them, and always have their backs.

But if the guys didn't think of Kendall in the same way, then nothing Kendall believed mattered at all. Because everything that had happed was _his _fault, and _he_ was to blame. No apology was sufficient enough to right what he had done wrong.

Kendall couldn't imagine being forgiven by just a friend.

He rubbed the involuntary tears from his eyes. "James," he whispered, then sobbed again because he knew he was probably going crazy. "James, I'm sorry." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know if you can hear me. You probably can't. I don't know. But…" Kendall sobbed once more. "I am so sorry for what happened. I wish it'd been me instead of you. I _tried _to make it me instead of you. I-I didn't mean… James, I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was going to save you, all of you. But I guess I couldn't do that. I couldn't even protect my own family."

He almost stopped speaking there. But Kendall wasn't sure how things worked in the afterlife, so he figured he might as well keep James in the loop. "Carlos and Logan are okay. They're okay, James. That's what Chris told me. And I believe him, I do. Maybe I shouldn't. But, James, man, I want to see them. I want to see them so bad—" He broke off crying and couldn't seem to stop. "—But I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do."

He cursed at himself for being so weak and pathetic. Tears didn't help anything.

Kendall sniffled and swallowed back the lump in his throat. "So… I don't really know if you can do anything to help, but if you can, and if you don't hate me too much, would you do me a favor? Watch out for them. Katie, too. I don't think I can anymore. And if there's one person I trust to do it, it's you."

He pulled away from the door and took a moment to compose himself. Then he looked to the black ceiling. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

And suddenly, Kendall knew he couldn't stay in the darkness a moment longer. It was time to move. Maybe James was dead. Maybe Carlos and Logan would never forgive him. Maybe he wouldn't go home. But leaving was the only way to save Gustavo, and Kendall wasn't about to let anyone else get hurt because of him.

He shook his head back and forth to clear away the remainder of his distressing thoughts, then exhaled a long, deep breath into his cupped hands. He rubbed them together to generate some heat in his fingers. Just because he was suddenly hopeful for escape didn't mean his body became any warmer.

When Kendall managed to flex his stiff fingers into a fist, he grabbed the doorknob and gave it a twist. Locked. It didn't surprise him. But he twisted harder, hoping the lock was weak and would pop out of place. He gripped the knob with both hands and jiggled it, then leaned all his weight against the door.

It wouldn't budge. Time for plan B.

Kendall rolled his shoulder in anticipation. To avoid reopening the knife wound along his left arm, he decided to ram the door with his right side. He gave the door a couple light, experimental hits. The wood creaked.

Optimistic for the first time in days, Kendall took several steps backwards. He mentally counted to three, then charged full force at the door. He braced himself for impact before his shoulder thudded against the surface. After a chorus of creaks and moans from the wood as it began to give way, he backed up and tried again, using every bit of strength he could summon. He knew he was still significantly weak; the sandwich and water, however thoughtful, hadn't nearly replaced all his energy.

He gritted his teeth in determination and stepped back, panting breathlessly. His shoulder ached. No doubt it had already bruised purple, because just running his hand gingerly over the tender area caused him to wince in pain.

But he had to keep trying. The door was bound to break soon; the cracks and pops of snapping wood increased with every hit.

Wiping a line of sweat away from his forehead, Kendall prepared for another attack on the door. A determined growl escaped his mouth as he charged forward and struck the surface. But the growl quickly morphed into a gasp when he realized he was falling. He landed hard on the ground, moaning. Pain rocketed through his shoulder, his head, his eyes—because there was light. Wait. Light? Why was there light? Kendall blinked, disoriented, and tried to comprehend his new location. He rolled onto his stomach, breathing rapidly in his blur of panic. The door to the closet had swung open, revealing several long cracks in the tatty wood. Upon further examination, Kendall noticed one of the cracks reached toward the doorknob. When he'd rammed the door, the wood had warped outward and somehow dismantled the lock on the knob.

He was out.

Morning light from a window ahead had Kendall raising his hands to cover his face. It was so blindingly bright that he couldn't keep his eyes open for longer than a second. He could practically feel his pupils shrink, which was an unpleasant experience. But he also felt the sunlight bathe his skin and hair, and it was nearly enough to make him laugh. The floor was warm, the colors behind his closed eyelids flashed hues of red and orange instead of black. The air was smooth and easy to inhale. It was as though he'd fallen into a new world—broken through the barrier separating punishment and reward.

His body wanted to rest there forever, basking in his victory. He could have slept peacefully in that spot, not knowing any other surroundings, not knowing when Chris would return, not planning on going home.

But his brain disagreed.

Kendall waited several moments for his eyes to adjust to the welcomed intrusion of light before he pulled himself to his feet. His limbs screamed in protest, and his muscles trembled unsteadily as he used them. He'd never felt so sore and exhausted, not even after that state match against Duluth East during sophomore year.

Kendall remembered James helping him off the rink after a particularly hard check against the boards.

"_Come on, man, you'll be okay. Walk it off."_

Right. He couldn't think about the pain or the fatigue. He had to keep going. Had to move.

He examined the room and quickly absorbed his new surroundings. The floors were wooden, and the walls bore a disagreeable combination of paneling and yellowed wallpaper. Several pieces of furniture were cluttered in one corner of the otherwise empty bedroom. Large, dusty tarps draped over the pile. The edges of the coverings seemed to sway slightly in a breeze. Rubbing his eyes, Kendall searched for the source of the draft. The window before him lacked a screen, and the pane was cracked in a pattern that resembled a spider web.

He ignored the glaring watermarks and mildew crawling to the ceiling and stumbled to the window. He squinted at the city on the other side. The block was lined with ramshackle buildings and rundown homes. The road was empty, and Kendall spotted no parked car.

His heart lurched in his chest from a sudden frisson of anxiety. He felt beads of hot perspiration roll down his neck as he searched for the exit. A doorway to the left revealed a staircase. He remembered those stairs. But he had felt so utterly hopeless and lost as Chris prodded him along that he had barely paid attention when he'd first arrived. Though downstairs, Kendall knew, was a small living room area, void of any furnishings, and the door that would lead him outside.

Kendall hurried to the stairs. He squatted at the top step and peered below, listening for any movement that indicated Chris was actually home. Because what if he was hiding? What if Chris knew Kendall would try to escape? It was a possibility, right?

Either way, it was worth the risk.

Kendall's sweaty hand curled around the loose railing as he descended the steps. He wanted to bolt out of there as fast as he could; sprint like a strike of lightning so that he appeared as an unnoticeable blur of motion. But his feet were heavy, and his muscles still hadn't stretched enough to carry him at his desired speed.

Each step creaked noisily. He feared he'd be heard from a mile away. Sweat ran into his eyes, and his entire body flushed with panic. Trepidation crept into his stomach and weighed him down. It was as though he moved in slow motion, despite knowing he was completely unconcealed and vulnerable.

The railing wobbled and seemed only moments away from falling off the wall by the time Kendall made it to the ground floor. He barely registered the single set of table and chairs in the center of the dilapidated space. He hardly noticed the laptop on the table, the makeshift bed of blankets in one corner, or the garbage that littered the floor. His eyes located the front door, and he burst through without a second thought.

The cool air mixed with the brightness of the sun hit him like a blow to the stomach. Kendall stumbled, momentarily blind, and tripped down several concrete steps. He landed hard on his knees and felt his skin scrape against the sidewalk. He blushed, though no one was watching.

Or maybe someone _was _watching.

He scrambled to his feet, hissing in pain, and quickly searched for cover. Standing at the front of the house made him utterly exposed and visible to anyone passing him by. Kendall promptly noticed a cluster of Dumpsters backed into a side alley. He made a run for it, squinting through the light, ignoring the blood on his jeans, panting from a sudden lapse of terror.

He crouched behind the trash bins and hid from view of the street or other buildings. He placed his hand over his heart and forced himself to take some even breaths to calm down. Part of him wanted to laugh and part of him wanted to cry, but he refused to do either. He had to stick to the plan: get out, get help, get home.

Except maybe not that last one. He hadn't decided yet.

_Calm down_, he chanted in his head over and over again. Panicking wouldn't help the situation. Stay calm, breathe, take it easy. It's what he would have told the guys.

He was out of that closet. He was out of that house. He was away from Chris.

But he still wasn't free.

Cautiously, Kendall peeked over the top of the Dumpsters and did a quick survey of the area. The neighborhood looked deserted. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

He knew he'd have to leave the comfort of his hiding place if he wanted to get help. It took him a good thirty seconds to give himself a mental pep talk and decide to just hurry up and go already. Hunched down and moving swiftly, he crept along the path leading to the road. Every distant car horn, every rustle of paper or slight peripheral movement made him nearly jump in fright.

He reached the road with a heart hammering so fast and so far up his throat that he briefly wondered if he would vomit. But his nausea fled when he saw the car.

Kendall turned his head left to right, searching for a place to duck or hide. He didn't pay attention to what sort of vehicle Chris drove, so for all Kendall knew he was watching his captor return.

The car came closer. Kendall narrowed his eyes and made out the silhouette of the driver. He saw long hair and glasses—a woman.

"Hey!" Kendall shouted. He leapt into the middle of the street and waved his hands in the air. "Hey! Stop!"

The car braked. Kendall kept walking forward, causing the driver to stop completely. "Stop! You have to help me," he pleaded, running around the hood and towards the side door. The woman behind the wheel gaped at him and looked as though she was about to speed away. But she stopped. She stared at him as he begged her to open the door.

She recognized him.

"Please, ma'am," Kendall said as she rolled down the window. "My n-name is Kendall Knight. I-I was kidnapped." He didn't realize he was shaking until he heard the tremble in his own voice. "Please, you have to help me. D-do you have a cell phone I could use?"

The lady was already fumbling for her purse. "Oh my gosh, you're that kid from the news, aren't you?" She handed Kendall the cell phone once she located the device.

He punched in the three emergency numbers that were not all that unfamiliar to his fingers, considering he grew up with Carlos. A female dispatcher answered on the first ring.

"Hello, this is Kendall Knight," he breathily explained. His vision was suddenly cloudy. "I need help. I-I was kidnapped a few days ago by some guys who are planning t-to kill Gustavo Rocque. I'm in Los Angeles, I don't… I don't know where…"

He turned to the woman for help, and she quickly told him the street name.

But Kendall didn't relay the information to the dispatcher.

Dumbstruck from the surge of apprehension that shot through his body, Kendall took a step backwards, the cell phone slowly sliding from his ear. He heard the muffled voice of the woman on the other end of the line, but couldn't make his mouth move to find words.

The lady in the car screamed.

Kendall hadn't noticed the other vehicle pull up. He hadn't noticed the door open and Chris step out.

"What are you doing?" Chris asked, calmly. He left his car door wide open and had his pistol in his hand. It caught the light and gleamed at Kendall, as if saying, _Look at me. I'm going to kill you._

When Kendall failed to give a response, Chris roared at the top of his lungs. "_What are you doing?_"

He jumped back, the phone falling from his fingers and clattering to the road. "I-I…"

"What did I tell you?" Chris yelled, face red. His gestured fervently with his gun, sending small flashes of light to every direction. "Huh? What did I _tell you_?"

"I-I don't… I was j-just…"

"Did you think I was _kidding_?" His eyes were on fire. "Did you think I was _joking_ when I told you I'd kill your friends? Is that what you thought?"

A few small croaks came out of Kendall's throat as he continued to slowly backpedal away from the petrified woman behind the wheel of the car. His foot accidentally kicked the cell phone and sent it tumbling a few inches away.

"I just asked you to cooperate. That's all I asked. I told you what would happen if you didn't listen. I _told_ you." Chris raised the gun. "Your friends are dead, you hear me? They're dead."

Kendall froze in his tracks. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Palm Woods."

"No."

"Apartment Two-J."

"No!"

"You did this to them! If you would have listened, I wouldn't have to do it! You did this!" With a cry of fury, Chris raised the gun.

Aside from the shot that killed James, Kendall hadn't really heard a gunshot before. It was deafeningly loud, like a clap of thunder directly overhead on a stormy day. He braced himself for the pain of the bullet ripping through his flesh, tearing through muscle and shattering bone. He cried out and fell backwards, landing awkwardly on his back with tiny pieces of glass spraying onto his face and arms. He waited for the feeling of blood, thick and warm, to start oozing down his body.

The breath was knocked from his body. He remained sprawled on the ground, gasping futilely for oxygen like a fish out of water. Through diluted hearing he listened to shrill shrieks of the woman in the car, and squealing tires as Chris sped away.

Kendall slowly lifted his head. His first instinct was to check his body for the wound. He didn't feel much pain aside from a few tiny shards of glass wedged in his skin, and the little cuts they left behind. There was no blossoming pool of blood. No debilitating pain. Nothing.

His eyes flicked up to the front end of the car and saw that one of the headlights was shattered.

Chris had missed.

Kendall surprised himself by how focused his mind remained. He pulled himself to his feet and watched as Chris's car swerved around a curve and disappeared from sight.

The man was heading to the Palm Woods.

Kendall seized the door handle of the parked car. The woman who'd pulled over to help him was ducked low in her seat, with her hands raised to shield herself. Frightened tears streaked her cheeks, and Kendall instantly felt a pang of guilt.

He yanked the door open and grabbed the woman by her arm. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I have to borrow your car."

It seemed he would have to go home after all.


	25. Better Days

**A/N: Oh my goodness. I apologize for the wait! First I was really sick for a while, so between doctors and hospitals I didn't have much time to write. Then the holidays came, so most of my holiday break from school was spent with family (which was awesome, by the way), then I had a wedding to attend, and a ridiculous amount of homework to get caught up on. (In fact, I'm still a little backlogged.) I literally went a couple weeks without even thinking about this story! But I'm back now, hopefully with some fresh motivation, and ready to get the story finished. I estimate it has about five chapters to go… give or take. I haven't really decided. I appreciate your patience! I can't thank you guys enough for all for the reviews you have been leaving. They really made my day, especially when I was sick :)**

**This chapter, for some reason, was really hard to write. So I broke it off a little earlier than I intentioned, and as a result this one is a little short compared to the others. Chapter 26 will be even shorter, I believe. Oh, but I just can't resist cliffhangers! Bwahaha!**

**Warnings: Violence.**

* * *

Chapter 25  
Better Days

"I'm sorry," Kendall repeated, tugging harder on the woman's arm.

He had only experienced true terror once before. He'd felt the frostbite effect on his body back at the warehouse, when James had been murdered.

_Murdered_.

Kendall chanted the word silently, hoping it would motivate himself to move a little quicker. Every second that ticked by was time that could be used for Chris to pull the trigger. Kendall had witnessed a fired shot. He'd heard the crack of a bullet blasting from the barrel of a gun, hard and cold, like an icy cut slashing the air. He didn't know much about guns. He knew sometimes pistols let out wisps of smoke once fired—the insides were hot, the outside was cold.

It was sort of how panic felt.

His body shivered and his skin broke out in goose bumps. Even so, his cheeks flushed hot and sweat rolled down his neck and back. The two conflicting sensations sent nausea to flood him as he continued to yank the woman from her seat. In the mere seconds it took for her to comply, the only thoughts occupying Kendall's head were how she was taking _forever_, and Chris was surely getting an incredible head start, and Kendall still didn't have any idea where he was or how to get home.

The woman screamed as Kendall pushed her to the side. She clutched her hands protectively around her stomach, breathing hard and panting with fear. Then she froze, nearly mindless in her state of panic, and stared at Kendall as he hopped in the driver's seat. He pulled the door shut and chanced a quick glance back. It was then he noticed the bulge of her belly.

She was pregnant.

He had forced a pregnant woman from her car.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, suddenly feeling like a villain. Chris speeding away to kill Kendall's friends and most likely anyone who stood in the way was a perfectly good reason to steal a car, right? By the time the police located Kendall and he explained the situation, it would be too late.

He buried the guilt for now and concentrated on the mechanics of the vehicle. He'd seen his mother and Logan drive before; surely it couldn't be too difficult. Not daring to waste precious seconds fumbling for a seatbelt, Kendall's slippery hands found the gear stick. He shifted the car from park to drive, then slammed his foot on the gas pedal before even bothering to check if he was heading in the right direction.

The tires screamed against the pavement. Kendall gritted his teeth together as the inertial force pinned him to his seat. With a white-knuckle grip on the wheel, he drifted around the first corner, leaving the dumbstruck woman standing unaided in the middle of the street.

A straight road laid ahead, with buildings lining each side and no car in sight. Kendall accelerated to fifty miles per hour in the residential area, heart pumping blood to his ears as he desperately searched for signs of Chris's car. As chaotic as the functions of his body were, his thoughts remained clear. His concentration was like a sea of glass, flat and smooth with utmost focus.

His friends and family were at home. And they weren't going to die today.

He approached the end of the street before he decided which way to turn. Kendall reluctantly eased down on the brakes as he cranked the wheel to the right, ignoring his turning signal altogether. Traffic lights were visible up ahead, as well as several cars. There was a small ripple in his pool of thoughts as he briefly contemplated how to maneuver around the pickup in front of him and the oncoming car in the left lane. He had only a second to make a decision, but only needed half. Jerking the wheel left, the vehicle was tossed in the opposite lane. The truck ahead of him braked, allowing Kendall to pass. He swerved back when the driver of the oncoming car pounded on her horn and nearly popped the curb in a clumsy attempt to move out of the way. Now ahead of the pickup, Kendall couldn't suppress a gasp of alarm from flying out of his mouth.

Oh, man. Saving friends or not, he was _so _going to jail.

The traffic light ahead thankfully turned green. As he sped through the intersection with ease, he turned his head left and right, searching for the car. What color was it again? Silver? Or more tan? He hadn't paid attention to the model, so he was out of luck in that department. But if Chris was experiencing a spell of rage, he was probably driving as fast and as reckless as Kendall. A driver like that would leave an easy trail to follow.

Kendall calmed his mind and regained his composure. He kept his thoughts like a taut plane pointing to one goal: get home.

Get out, get help—easy.

Get home. He had to get home.

Buildings whirled by as colorless blurs. The road was as straight as his focus. Nothing could stop him. He passed cars and trucks effortlessly, leaving them as tiny dots in his rearview mirror. He barely registered the chorus of horns which seemed to sing to him in a constant, sharp blast. The smart drivers who noticed him approaching either pulled over or slowed to a stop in order to prevent a collision.

He cranked on the wheel to avoid an oblivious limousine turning onto the road. Crying out in surprise, Kendall was nearly tossed from his seat as his fender was clipped. The car lost control for only a moment, but with a hard jerk to the steering wheel, Kendall managed to free himself from being sandwiched between two vehicles. The close call shook his focus, but he didn't slow down. Instead, the teen accelerated to his highest speed yet, leaving angry drivers and his guilt behind him.

Breathing hard and trembling beyond belief, Kendall continued straight, weaving in and out of traffic, whizzing past unfamiliar streets and stores. There was no sign of the Palm Woods, or even a recognizable neighborhood. Everything was strange to his eyes.

A red octagon made itself visible at the next turn. Knowing he had absolutely no time to stop, he pressed his hand into the horn and prepared for his riskiest move yet. A taxi that had been turning noticed Kendall a second too late and slammed on its brakes in the middle of the four-way. Kendall zoomed past, heart leaping up his throat at the windy feel of sideswiping the vehicle. A loud crack made him wince. The side view mirror was gone.

More car horns echoed in his ears. But they didn't understand. He had to get home. He had to get home.

Something ahead grabbed his attention. Black streaks on the road, long and fresh. Two cars were pulled over, both with their emergency flashers blinking brightly. One had hit the other's bumper, and both drivers stood outside examining the damage. Somehow Kendall knew it was evidence Chris had been past. Some sort of spark lit within him, and Kendall increased speed while murmuring a quick prayer that he was going in the right direction.

Traffic grew thicker the farther he drove. He was surprised he hadn't passed a cop by now. Trying to avoid a crash, he turned into a parking lot and crossed it to get to a main road crowded with cars. Horns warned him to watch out, to slow down, but he had no time to obey them. The air seemed to be losing its oxygen, forcing Kendall to pant to catch his breath.

Get home.

A slow-moving truck next to a Hummer blocked him from making a pass. Growling under his breath, Kendall bopped his horn and tried to maneuver around. He had no choice but to apply his brakes and slow the car to the actual speed limit. He couldn't drive in the opposite lane, as traffic was too heavy and would surely cause certain death.

"Hurry up!" Kendall shouted, though knew the drivers couldn't hear him. He pounded the horn angrily, wondering why it was taking so long for the Hummer to make a simple pass. The large vehicle finally did what Kendall hoped, instantly moving out of the way for the impatient driver. Kendall accelerated and did a quick scan for road signs. He still failed to recognize the street names, but he surely had to be making progress towards his goal.

He felt the engine rumble, and it made his panicky body quake even harder. His mind remained as clam as a glassy sea, almost as though he was on an autopilot mode.

Something caught his gaze.

Ahead a ways, turning right, a speeding car glided around a corner and drove off accompanied by more angry bleeps and honks.

It was Chris. It had to be.

Kendall tried to keep his eyes on the mysterious car, but it disappeared behind a building. But he saw the street, just one road beyond the next intersection—

The approaching traffic light turned red.

Two options struck his mind:

One: Brakes. Now.

Two: Floor it.

Option two seemed as though it would accomplish more, so Kendall took the chance. Time seemed to slow as he comprehended a half-second too late what was about to happen. The green-lit cars had already begun to proceed, it was too late to revert to option one, and Kendall wasn't about to make it home.

Out of instinct, he stomped his foot against the brakes. His eyes flew shut as he braced for inevitable impact. The rubber tires squealed against the pavement. He desperately twisted and turned the wheel, but it was useless. An impossibly forceful blow sent him flying out of his seat and colliding against a shattering window. The crunch of metal-on-metal deafened him and sent him spiraling lazily into some sort of weightless dream…

He opened his eyes when a voice broke through his weariness. It ripped through his repose and sent him crashing back to reality. Pain shot down his neck and back, something wet poured in his eye, and a harsh pins and needles feeling irked his right leg.

"Are you okay, kid? Oh, my goodness. Hang on. An ambulance will be here in a few minutes."

A few minutes? No. That would take too long. There was no time. Chris was getting ahead; maybe he was already at the Palm Woods. Kendall groaned and swallowed back a mouthful of bile. His vision focused enough for him to see a woman with a small cut across her eyebrow peering into the smashed driver's window. She was young, with golden hair that flowed around her pretty face.

"Jo?" Kendall murmured.

The lady didn't seem to hear him, and instead turned around and waved her hands in the air as a signal for help. Something between a pained moan and a sob escaped Kendall's bloody mouth as he struggled to sit upright. His stomach churned and twisted into knots, and his head ached infuriatingly. He wiped his hand across his wet face and it came back red.

Two more faces appeared in the window; an older gentleman and a kid perhaps in his early twenties. "Can you move? How bad does it hurt?" one of the guys asked.

No time. Had to get home. Had to move.

Kendall pulled himself upright, muscles in his arms nearly buckling at the strength it took. More blood exuded from his cuts and trailed down his face and neck. It took several seconds for him to comprehend he had been knocked to the opposite end of the vehicle when it had been struck from the side. He resided now in the passenger's seat, with a cracked window supporting his throbbing head.

"The Palm Woods," he slurred. "Where's the Palm Woods?"

"Huh?" The woman was back. It wasn't Jo.

"Palm Woods. Need t'get there."

"Alright, just you hang on. The ambulance will be here soon. You'll be okay."

No. She didn't understand.

Grunting in effort with a newfound surge of energy, Kendall crawled back to the driver's seat with unsteady hands pulling him along.

"Hey, take it easy." One of the men returned. "Kid, seriously. Sit still. You might be really hurt."

"M'fine," Kendall grumbled. The pain diminished as adrenaline trickled in. Successfully upright in the appropriate seat, Kendall reached out the window and grabbed the front of the woman's shirt. She gasped and tried to wiggle out of his grip. At least she wasn't pregnant.

"Hey, man," warned the younger guy, stepping forward to intervene.

"Listen to me," Kendall told the frightened woman. "Listen. My name is Kendall Knight. I was kidnapped a few days ago, maybe you heard about it. Right now my friends are in trouble. They're going to die."

The woman, wide-eyed, tore away from Kendall's trembling fingers and stepped back. The young man wedged himself between the two. "What's your problem?" he asked Kendall.

"What's your name?"

"Huh?"

"Not you. Her." Kendall indicated the blonde. "Ma'am, what's your name?"

She gently pushed aside the man and came back into view, though kept a cautious distance from the window. "Amanda."

"Amanda," Kendall begged. "Please listen. Please help me. Everyone I care about is in danger. I need to stop it. Amanda, you have to tell me where the Palm Woods is. Please."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't know."

Kendall shut his eyes and tried to regain his focus. Colors flashed before his closed eyelids—dark colors—wanting to pull him away. There was no time. He had to go. Had to go. But where? How could he possibly find his way before Chris? More blood oozed from the cut on his face. Muscles felt worn, bones were brittle and weak.

"I know where it is," said the older guy, coming back to the window. "Is that where you were heading?"

"Tell me," Kendall demanded. "Sir, please. Tell me where."

The old guy pushed up his glasses. "Uh, well, you just take a right there, and follow the road a couple miles till you see Nineteenth Street. Just turn there and the Palm Woods will be on your right."

Kendall nearly gasped in shock. He was that close?

He sputtered and thank you and something like an apology, then grabbed the wheel.

"Hey, what are you—" Amanda started.

Kendall hit the gas pedal. He sank back in his seat and turned the wheel as far as he could, considering the collision had turned him around. Smoke accompanied the screeching tires as the car spun and did a one-eighty in the center of the intersection, which had come to nearly a stand-still due to the accident. He saw people poke their heads out of their windows, confused pedestrians huddle on the sidewalks, and Amanda and the two guys jump back with yelps of fear. Thankfully the car still worked; the engine hadn't been damaged.

He couldn't focus on his injuries. He couldn't allow anything to disrupt the attention on the goal. Get home. Had to get home.

He didn't hear the horns anymore. The noise was so constant it had become familiar. He took the turn as the man had instructed. Luckily, it was a two-lane street; there was plenty of room to weave through traffic. Chris's car was no where in sight, but perhaps Kendall could catch up. He lowered his foot more and more on the gas pedal and watched the needle on the speedometer move to the right. At the next green-lit intersection, Kendall searched for a street name. Nineteenth. Where was Nineteenth?

He was momentarily blind in his left eye until he removed a hand from the wheel to wipe away the sticky blood. He hissed when he touched a swollen lump on his forehead. Focus. Get home. Drive.

He tore through another red traffic light, but this time the drivers in the front of the line saw him coming and smartly kept their distance.

He continued on, tense with determination, not caring about the newly inflicted aches and pains. A few more intersections passed him by before Kendall finally recognized a building.

It was Rocque Records.

…Which meant he'd missed his turn.

Kendall felt like laughing. He knew his way home from here. It was an enormous relief to see a familiar place, a place he once thought he'd never be able to return to.

But the building distracted him. He couldn't afford to waste any more time longing for better days. He had to focus. Okay. Nineteenth was behind him, so if he simply took the next turn and went around the block, he'd be back on track.

Kendall slowed the stolen car as much as he dared, then turned. Immediately, he saw a problem.

All the cars were coming towards him.

"Oh no," he muttered. He'd mistakenly turned down a one way—the wrong way.

Panic took a grip on his mind and threatened to crumple the straight plane of thoughts he'd managed to form. He felt the icy shivers racking his body and the hot sweat stinging every wound on his flesh. The oncoming headlights glared at him, welcomingly, as though they beckoned him closer. Kendall's fingers curled tighter around the wheel, slick with blood and sweat, as he waited for his mind to produce the options for the situation.

Nothing came to him. So Kendall did the only thing he could do.

He kept going.

The barrier of vehicles grew nearer and nearer. Some cars stopped, some slowed, some pulled over, some changed lanes to allow Kendall more room to drive, because it was clear to anyone that he had no intention of slowing down. Gritting his teeth together, Kendall slammed a fist into the horn and allowed his mind to stray from focus.

And he thought of home.

He thought of Logan and Carlos, all by themselves. He thought of Katie staring at him with those big brown eyes. He thought of Mrs. Knight's embraces, of Jo's kisses, of Camille's unpredictable slaps, of Gustavo's angry roars and Kelly's faithfulness to both the boys and her boss. But in every mental image of the people he loved, one particular friend stuck out significantly from the rest—the one friend Kendall had let down the most.

James.

He thought of James as he dodged various automobiles with a frighteningly calm reserve. There was no time for guilt, no time for remorse. Had to keep moving. Left. Right. Brakes. Left. Gas. More gas. Right. Straight.

The movements were automatic and precise. Around him the scene was a chaotic, frantic mess, with cars swerving and colliding and stopping and going and James James James, all he could think about was _James_, and he had to get home, had to save them for James…

A hot frisson of excitement jolted through Kendall's body the moment he passed the final car obliviously turning onto the one-way. "Oh, man," he breathed to himself. The most miraculous sight he'd ever seen stood on the opposite side of the block.

The Palm Woods.

He wasn't sure how he made it to the front doors. One moment he'd been admiring the building from a distance, and the next he had crossed four lanes of traffic and half a parking lot. Kendall jerked the wheel to avoid a group of teens strolling by, then swung the damaged vehicle into the nearest parking space he could find. He was in the front of the building, which meant he'd parked in the area where shuttles and taxis arrived and departed.

He'd resided here for quite some time. And the first tip for living at the Palm Woods was simple: Nothing is illegal unless you're caught. Therefore, Kendall figured he was good to go.

He wasn't sure if Chris's car was nearby or not. He didn't bother to look. Kendall shifted the car into park and flung open the door, leaving the engine running and the keys dangling from the ignition. Pain instantly shot down his legs and pressure flooded his head. All Kendall had to do was remind himself of the goal, and everything melted. He was invincible.

A few kids gawked at him as he bolted towards the entrance and yanked open the door. The lobby was bright and sunny and just as busy as usual. It was perfect, yet Kendall couldn't pause to enjoy it. He hurriedly checked both ways for any sign of Chris, saw no one older than twenty, and made a dash for the opposite end of the room.

Palm Woods tip number two: The lobby is short; run to avoid being recognized.

He breezed past groups of teens chatting on the loveseats, pushed aside kids heading towards the pool. He knew the names of a few of them, but hoped they didn't remember him. To a stranger, Kendall knew, he probably came off as a devoted actor practicing in costume for a role in a zombie movie. Random idiots running around the vicinity wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence at the Palm Woods.

He knew he didn't have to worry about the manager, because the third tip for living at the Palm Woods was perhaps the most useful: Bitters resides in his office during his hour-long lunch break.

Kendall panted hard with exertion. His hair was heavy upon his head with wetness, whether from blood or sweat or both, he wasn't sure. His clothes clung to his skin, and his sneakers suddenly seemed a little too tight.

Get home. Get home.

Palm Woods tip number four: The stairs are faster than the elevator.

It occurred to him then, as he emerged in the stairwell and let his foot fall upon the first step, that Chris could be right around the next corner. A strange sound burst from between his lips. Kendall cried out again and stumbled. His feet continued moving regardless, causing him to trip some more. He groped clumsily for the railing to keep himself steady. Blood pounded in his brain, clouded everything, shattered the sea of glass that was his focus. Everything kicked in at once, exhausting him, choking him…

Only it couldn't exhaust him. It couldn't choke him. He had a job to do.

A surge of warmth chased away every cold fear. The sudden rush of adrenaline Kendall felt numbed every physical wound, every cut and bruise and weak muscle. He felt nothing but pure energy and the heavy, solid thump of his heart as if it wanted to burst from his chest. His vision went momentarily blurry as sweat ran into his eyes, but he didn't feel the sting, didn't feel the moisture on his face. Every sensation that could have possibly hindered his progress was blocked, erased, nonexistent to his mind.

Maybe he always knew a situation would occur that would be out of his hands. It was bound to happen one day. And it wouldn't matter if he gave it his all. It wouldn't matter if he pushed himself to his limit and then some, if he never backed down and never, ever gave up. Everything wasn't always good enough. Sometimes bad things just happened, and nothing could be done.

James's death had been one of those situations.

This moment was not.

The stairs didn't wind him, didn't slow him down in the slightest; they were invisible to his feet. He soared up the two flights and struck his shoulder into the heavy door of the second floor so hard that it bounced off the wall and slammed shut behind him. The corridor was bright but empty. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Kendall half-expected to see Chris as he sprinted down the hall to apartment 2J, but the man was no where in sight. Kendall kept on, the name plates on the outside of the doors reading 2N, 2M, 2L, 2K…

Finally, he saw it. Without hesitation he seized the door handle and crossed the threshold from the hall to his home.

But Kendall didn't stop running.

Because, in his adrenaline-sharp mind, he was able to comprehend in a lightning-fast burst of thought what was transpiring around him.

Time slowed down.

Chris stood in the living room area, facing the orange couch. One arm was outstretched, pointing towards the figures before him. A glint of light made his pistol wink at Kendall. _Look at what I'm about to do_.

There were people on the couch. Carlos, clutching onto Logan's arm. Logan, clutching onto Carlos's. And someone else. Who was that? Someone tall, someone with fantastically groomed brown hair…

But there was no time for that. No time at all. Kendall glided across the room with an animalistic scream, body burning with rage and hate and everything negative he could possibly feel towards the man pointing a gun at his remaining friends.

Chris began to turn at the abrupt interruption behind him, but it was too late. Kendall crashed his body against the man's, grabbed Chris's elbow, and forced the barrel of the gun to the ground.

About halfway through the action, the trigger was pulled.

And Kendall fell to the floor.


	26. Home

**A/N: Wow. Somehow this got way longer than I thought. Anyway, here is the chapter most of you have been waiting for. Thanks for all the feedback last chapter; I really appreciate it! Please continue to let me know how I'm doing :D**

**Warnings: Violence. Possible type-os.**

* * *

Chapter 26  
Home

Searing pain rocketed Kendall's side. He dropped instantly to the floor, landing hard on his back and elbow. He feared his skin was bubbling away from the burning heat he felt just above the right side of his hip bone. His eardrums rang from the closeness of the shot and made him nearly unaware to the shouts of Chris or anyone else in the room.

It was the perfect advantage.

He took half a second to pity himself, to acknowledge that something seriously wrong had just happened, to remind himself that home didn't mean safety. Then he shoved it all aside and forced his mind to once again go into focus. He'd gotten out. He'd gotten help. He was _home_. But his friends still weren't safe, and Kendall wouldn't rest until he was certain they were.

With an angry cry, Kendall stuck out his leg and smashed a foot into the back of Chris's knee. The man lost his balance and stumbled while the recently fired pistol clattered to the floor. It landed only feet from Kendall's head, and he made an automatic grab for the weapon while simultaneously delivering a second blow to get Chris to the ground.

Chris fell swiftly—a dark, shadowy blur of motion—and was immediately scrambling to get the upper hand before his back even touched the ground. Kendall shrieked fearfully as a hand clamped around his ankle and held tightly, like a snake constricting around its prey. He kicked his feet with energy he didn't know he possessed. The adrenaline was his drug. Fortitude pumped hot through every vein, encouraging him, strengthening him.

Kendall struck the man repeatedly with his shoes, each blow harder than the next. He flopped over on his stomach, continuously writhing to aggravate Chris. Gun. Where was the gun? He reached out an arm and made contact with the weapon. His fingertips grazed over the barrel. If he could only inch forward just a bit more…

Suddenly, the grip on his legs was gone completely and he was yanked by the shoulders and forced onto his back. Air rushed from his lungs due to the surprise of the attack. The back of Kendall's head crashed against the hard floor, making his eyes involuntarily close. During his moment of blindness he heard the frightened cries of his petrified friends on the couch. Why weren't they running?

Chris hissed a vicious curse, and with the hand not pinning Kendall down by the shoulder reeled back a fist and landed a forceful blow across Kendall's face.

"Stop—" Kendall sputtered, but was cut off by yet another hard punch. Chris had abused him before. Kendall had memorized the feel of the man's calloused fists. But this time, things were different. Kendall's face was numb, and his body ignored every physical impairment. He was so close. He had escaped Chris's rule and found his way home. He'd survived the fresh guilt of James's death gnawing away at his insides. There were things wrong with him, things he couldn't really feel. There had to be, after everything he'd been through—being tied to an insufferably straight-backed chair for _days_; consuming insufficient amounts of food and water; being hit and cut and pushed and shoved and exhausted to the verge of a mental collapse. He'd sat in a little black closet with a drippy pipe relentlessly mocking him and had been forced to think about Logan and Carlos and James James James.

Continuously assaulted by punches from Chris, Kendall's mind wandered. And he remembered all those things Chris had put him through, and how he'd survived them. He remembered the reason he'd gotten himself into this mess, and remembered how it was the same reason that gave him the strength to get out of it.

The punches abruptly ceased. Kendall anticipated Chris was winding up for a finishing blow. Not planning on being defeated so easily, Kendall brought up his arms and crossed them protectively over his face. He gasped when instead of a punch, Chris seized the front of Kendall's filthy shirt and hauled him to his feet with what seemed like inhuman strength. But their bodies ran on different fuels, and Kendall's produced less consequences.

Kendall stood there, restrained by the man who was once again momentarily his captor. In his mind he'd already formulated a way to escape the hold, but there was a look in Chris's eyes which stopped Kendall from executing his move. The dark grey irises contained a thousand hateful words that Chris could never successfully vocalize. All the past emotions were bottled inside him, mostly emotions the man couldn't understand—hate, anger, fear, betrayal. There was a scowl on his face; eyebrows drawn together, teeth bared like a dog. Kendall could see the instability and the erraticism lurking there, and for the first time truly understood how dangerous of a man was staring into his eyes.

Kendall prepared to free himself and continue fighting. He readied his leg for a remorseless kick to the groin, which would be accompanied by quick jabs to any available body part.

But then there was a scream, and Kendall's concentration shattered.

He'd forgotten about the chance of Katie being in the apartment. He'd forgotten there was an extra person to protect.

"Katie, _run_!" Kendall shrieked. He whipped his head to the side and saw his little sister standing in her pajamas, having just emerged from the hall, and frozen in shock. "Run!" he cried again. "Get out of here! Get help—"

Chris shoved him away so hard that he lost his footing and fell against the kitchen counter. Plates and dishes clanged loudly as they hit the ground and skidded left and right. He struggled to suck in air as he laid doubled over against the countertop. When Kendall looked down he saw the bloodstains on the white surface, though any pain still did not reach him.

He turned his head once more at the sound of a second terrified scream. Slightly dazed from the push, his vision was hazy for several seconds as the air gradually inflated his lungs. The sight of Chris marching angrily towards the gun on the floor made every internal alarm in Kendall's brain ring. He opened his mouth to shout, but no sound emerged. His sightline blurred, and he rubbed a quick hand across his eyes to clear it.

Then, Katie was gone.

Stunned, Kendall's gaze flew to the door where he spotted his petrified sister being carried out of the apartment by a tall, strong figure. There was only one person who would have thought to do such a thing…

But there was no time to think about that now. Chris had retrieved the gun, and was taking aim at the two people escaping.

Kendall could breathe again. "Don't even think about it!" he roared, and launched himself at Chris's back. He clung around Chris's torso, pinning Chris's arms at his sides. The gun once again fell to the floor and was kicked somewhere across the room. Chris grunted and squirmed violently in attempts to shake Kendall away, but the teen was persistent. His insides were on fire. His body flew side to side as Chris trashed like a wild animal, shrieking and cursing words Kendall didn't think existed. Kendall's grip began to loosen; he couldn't hold on forever.

So he let go.

As Chris was abruptly released from Kendall's grasp, he tottered from the surprise and took an uneven step forward as not to lose his balance.

Kendall hit him.

Mrs. Knight had always chastised him for violence, and in the back of his head Kendall knew that hitting was wrong, even if someone else had initiated the tussle. But as his fist sank into the flesh of Chris's cheek, Kendall couldn't bring himself to care.

He prepared for a second strike, but wasn't quick enough. Chris retaliated with a blow to the stomach, followed immediately by an elbow to the face. Kendall pitched backwards and sprawled across the floor. He briefly stared at the man towering above him and waited for Chris to make a move. He didn't care. He was ready for it.

"Kendall!"

He recognized Carlos's voice at once. Suddenly there were footsteps; his friends had broken from their shock-induced traces and raced to his aid.

"No, no, no," Kendall pleaded. "Guys, get out of here—"

"Don't you hurt Kendall, you meanie!" cried Carlos. The helmeted boy tossed himself at the baffled man and immediately captured Chris's right arm. As Chris obviously struggled to comprehend the abrupt teamwork, Logan displayed bravery Kendall had never seen; the usually timid boy copied Carlos by firmly securing a hold around Chris's other arm. Leaving Kendall scrambling to get on his feet, the two boys forced Chris backwards until they collided against the wall. Chris was pinned between them.

"Get off me!" he hollered, face stark red.

Kendall stood as a surge of sudden panic washed through him. Chris was wild, squirming and writhing every imaginable way in hopes to break free from Carlos and Logan's grasps.

"Kendall, come on!" urged Carlos. "We got him!"

It was an 'I'll hold, you punch' situation he'd ashamedly been apart of in the past. Kendall stepped forward, fists twitching with a desire to harm. He snatched a fistful of Chris's blond hair and felt his chest swell with contempt. Chris ceased thrashing for a moment to lock eyes with Kendall, but Kendall had no time for a staring match.

He punched Chris square across the jaw, and this time he felt the sting in his knuckles. And he wanted to feel more. So he punched again. And again. And again.

But something was wrong. He saw it while his fist was slicing through the air, poised for another clout. There was a smirk tugging at the corner of Chris's bloody lip.

In one fluid motion, Chris lifted an arm and gave unsuspecting Logan an elbow to the nose. The startled boy instinctively let his hands fly to his face to cradle the injury, giving Chris a perfect opportunity to break away from Carlos. Bright red blood gushed from Logan's nose and oozed between his fingers.

Something inside Kendall snapped.

His punches had been ineffective before, and hadn't caused enough damage to stop the rage-fueled man. But now Kendall felt the heat engulf his body, felt the sour taste of hate on his tongue. He wanted revenge, wanted to inflict pain, wanted to make Chris feel worse than anything he'd ever felt before.

Kendall screamed in fury and took hold of the front of Chris's shirt before Chris had a chance to knock Carlos out of the way. Kendall cried out again and yanked the man sideways with such a force his feet were briefly lifted from the ground. The warmth of the rage consumed him whole.

"Don't you dare hurt them!" Kendall cried. He thrust Chris backwards so that the man's lower back came into contact with the counter's edge. "Don't you even _look_ at them!"

Dumbstruck, Chris had no time to react as Kendall's fist swung down like a hammer and sent blood spraying from between Chris's lips.

"I am _so sick _of you!" screamed Kendall, the words bursting from his mouth. He punched the man again with all his strength and heard something crack. "I am so sick of you threatening my friends! I am so sick of you hurting me and thinking you can push me around!" He screamed so loud his throat ached. "Well, guess what? I'm done! I am _done_!" He struck Chris once more, a powerful hit to the eye. Every word dripped malice. "I swear if you ever _think_ about even sending a _look_ in their direction you are going to be breathing through a tube! Do you hear me?"

Chris reached out futilely, hopelessly dazed from the punches. Kendall showed him no mercy and took one more mighty swing before he snatched the man's collar and brought their faces inches apart. "You picked the wrong person to mess with! You should have killed me when I thought they were dead, because now I have the strength to do this!" Kendall's fingers wadded around the hair on the back of Chris's head, and with a move too rapid for Chris to respond, pushed down and slammed his former captor's skull against the counter.

"_That's for James_!" screamed Kendall, and he was crying. Chris moaned and slid to the floor, but Kendall wasn't done. "And _this_ is for what you did to me," he shouted through sobs, landing a crushing kick to the ribs, "and _this_ is for hurting Carlos—" Another kick. "—and _this_ is for hurting Logan!" Kick. "And this is for my mom—" Kick. "—and my baby sister—" Kick. "—and Gustavo—" Kendall stepped back and pointed a finger at the unmoving body on the floor. "And you had better be unconscious because if you try to get up I will knock you back down again and again until you give up and stop breathing because _I am so sick of looking at you_!"

He panted hard through his sobs, the only noise in the apartment. Chris lay unconscious, faced down, bruised and beaten. Kendall stared through cloudy vision, feeling the boiling fury subside to a dull simmer. He was aware of the wetness of his face, the aching of his fists. His shoulders slowly sagged as he calmed. Chris's bleeding nose made a tiny pool, and Kendall felt a shudder of pleasure knowing he was the one who had caused it.

"Kendall."

He looked up at the name, barely a whisper, and met the wide brown eyes of Carlos. The Latino's eyebrows were narrowed in concern, and his mouth hung slightly open in shock. Once, his gaze flicked down to Chris, but not a second later they were back on Kendall, searching him, trying to understand.

"Kendall," Carlos said again, and he took a step forward.

Kendall stepped back. "No," he whispered. Because he'd killed James. And Carlos shouldn't look at him like that, like he didn't care about the past and just wanted to focus on now. Kendall couldn't allow that to happen. For James, he couldn't allow that to happen.

As Carlos continued to inch forward, Kendall continued to step back. He retreated more and more, shaking his head incredulously, until the backs of his legs hit the coffee table in the living room and he could move no further. "Don't," he whispered. "Don't."

Carlos crashed into him, arms latching firmly around Kendall's shoulders. A tiny sob worked its way out of Kendall's throat, and he stiffened. Carlos didn't know what he was doing. He was too forgiving, too naïve and careless. Didn't he understand? Didn't he understand that because of Kendall, James was dead? Didn't he understand…?

Kendall suddenly found himself hugging his friend back, but he hated himself for doing it because he knew he didn't deserve any comfort. Regardless, he decided to cherish the final time he'd be able to embrace his friend, because once the initial emotion settled, Kendall would explain everything. He'd make sure Carlos knew Kendall was to blame for the tragedy. He refused to go through life being forgiven.

Kendall strengthened the hold and breathed a heavy, shaky sigh of relief. His insides were still warm, but a different kind of warm. A good kind of warm. His heartbeat proceeded to slow and regain its normal pace, because Carlos was here, he was okay, and surely that was something Kendall could take pride in.

Carlos's back quivered. His tears smeared around the crook of Kendall's neck, but Kendall didn't mind. The blond's arms began to ache from the tightness of the embrace. He wasn't sure how long they stood connected, but it was enough for his adrenaline-induced numbness to begin diminishing. Twinges and pain began to flare on every inch of skin, in every muscle, every bone. But it didn't really matter. He'd once thought he'd never see Carlos or Logan again, and to have Carlos here now was worth a little pain.

Carlos stirred in his arms, seeming reluctant to pull away. Nonetheless, he grabbed Kendall by the forearms as their bodies separated. His trademark, lopsided grin spread broadly across his tear-streaked face. "Hi," he said.

"Hey," Kendall replied, trying to smile. He took Carlos by the shoulders just to get a better look at him. Kendall's heart broke thinking about having to step away.

Carlos glanced over his shoulder, then took a small step to the side, allowing Logan to come into Kendall's field of vision. The moment he saw his friend, Kendall's knees felt weak. He couldn't read the expression on Logan's face. It seemed to be a mixture of everything, and although Kendall had anticipated his friends never forgiving him, he had a sudden desire to try to make things right.

Or, at least, as close to right as it could be.

Logan's eyes shone brightly, as if the tears would spill over at any minute. But he was glued to the spot, not showing the slightest sign of moving any time soon.

"Logan," Kendall tried to say. His voice came out as a hoarse croak, and he had to start again. "Logan…"

Maybe it was fate's way of telling him not to waste his breath. Because what could he say? What could he possibly say that would mend even the smallest wound? James was dead because of him, and the guys had seen it. They'd been through more torture than Kendall.

He'd ruined everything.

"I-I," Kendall stammered. He wasn't sure what he was trying to convey, but words automatically spewed from his mouth regardless of his brain's orders. "I am _so…_ I mean, I-I never thought… Guys, I'm…"

Logan cut him off with a sob. "Kendall." In three long strides he closed the gap between them and threw his arms around Kendall's middle for a fierce embrace. The force nearly made Kendall totter backwards. For the briefest of moments he felt a stabbing pain in his side, but he pushed it away for now.

Kendall buried his face somewhere in Logan's hair and tried to make heads or tails of the situation. Because how could they even stand to look at him? He held Logan closer and felt the smaller boy cry softly into his shoulder. He wanted to apologize for James, but couldn't yet bear to do so.

Kendall pulled one arm away from Logan and held it out to Carlos. "Come here."

Carlos stepped into the encirclement, and the three clung tightly to one another. Kendall's knees trembled with the sheer joy of having accomplished what he promised he'd do back at Chris's hideout. Logan and Carlos were safe. They were here, nestled in his arms, and that knowledge made him feel strong. He was alive. Logan and Carlos were alive. They were together. Chris was unconscious. Kendall was _home. _He_—_

A startling noise caused Kendall to leap several feet in the air. He yelped in surprise and ripped out of Carlos and Logan's grips to thrust them protectively behind his body. He took a fighting stance, ready to take on whoever had just burst through the apartment door.

"GUYS, I'M COMING! I'LL SAVE YOU, I'LL—Oh, you got him already." James lowered the baseball bat in his hands and frowned at Chris's motionless body. Except it obviously wasn't James. It was nothing but a hallucination; a twisted projection formed by Kendall's subconscious as a way of comfort. The image of James was only manifested to try to save Kendall's sanity, because how could he live at home without James?

It was fake. It had to be fake. James was dead. This wasn't real. It wasn't real, it wasn't real, it _wasn't real_.

The figure of James surveyed the entire room. When his eyes landed on Kendall, his body noticeably stiffened in shock. Then he gulped, and the baseball bat slipped from his fingers and clattered to the hardwood floor.

"Kendall?" he said. Tears welled in his fictional hazel eyes, but he was smiling. It was a light smile, just barely curving the corners of his lips in what seemed to be hesitant relief.

As the figure approached, Kendall moved back, stepping on the toes of Carlos and Logan. He shook his head back and forth. "No," he whispered. And he was shaking. He could feel it now; every bone quaking, every limb and finger turned to unsteady Jell-O.

"Kendall, you're… I-I mean—" the hallucination tried to say. "You're okay?"

It sure sounded like James. But of course it would. Kendall still remembered his friend's voice; his mind could easily project that quality onto the phantom as well. He couldn't be misled by this trickery. James was dead. He'd heard the gunshot. It was a _fact_. It had been the only thing during Kendall's captivity with Chris of which he'd been entirely certain.

Kendall turned desperately to Carlos and Logan. The two looked confusedly to James and back to Kendall.

Kendall swallowed nervously, throat tight with emotion. "Are you real?"

James gave Kendall a strange look. "Of course I am," he replied softly. "Are you?"

"You…" Kendall's voice faded. He let out a breath of delighted astonishment. His chest filled with elation and relief, so much so that he sensed lightheadedness. His mind whirled as he attempted to piece together what was unfolding, and how the situation was even possible. He couldn't stop the grin that broke across his face. He strode quickly to his friend at the door. The closer James became, the more Kendall changed his mind and thought that maybe this was real after all.

He took his friend by the arms, unable to look anywhere but James's face. James. James James James. The name burst into Kendall's mind and played over and over again, because it was _James_, it had to be—he could feel the warmth of James's skin beneath his palms, and the solidity of strong muscle. He squeezed James's forearms, grabbed his shoulders, shook them, placed hands on James's face and head. And James was real, he had to be real, because his hazel eyes stared into Kendall's green ones and shimmered with nothing short of liveliness.

Kendall swallowed a sob as he continued to examine every feature of his friend's face—every feature he thought he'd never see again because of his mistakes. James was flawless, and he was smiling and crying and apparitions just don't _do that_.

"Hey," offered James. He reached out a hand and touched Kendall's face as if in disbelief. "Hey, Kendall."

A tear spilled down Kendall's cheek. "Hey." He hooked his arm around James's neck and pulled him close. James was solid, and with their bodies pressed together Kendall could feel warmth and substance and everything that signified a real, living human being.

James…

James was okay.

And Kendall was okay, too.

He couldn't help it; sobs tore from his mouth, and he cried shamelessly, too overwhelmed with emotion to do anything else. James held him with equal affection.

Kendall could have stayed there forever, basking in what was glorious reality. Nothing else mattered to him. He didn't care about the miracle that allowed James to survive the bullet. He didn't care that he was currently the one being comforted, instead of the other way around. He was completely at ease, breathing in that stupid 'Cuda man spray which he now decided he loved, and knowing all his friends were safe, and they were still Big Time Rush.

"Uh, guys?" It was Carlos, sounding panicked.

James tried to break from the embrace, but Kendall pulled him back. "No," he murmured, clutching fistfuls of James's t-shirt. "Don't leave again."

"I'm not going anywhere," said James, gently prying Kendall away. "Just hang on a second, okay, man?"

"No…"

"It's okay. Come on, Kendall."

Kendall was shaking uncontrollably as James slowly separated their bodies. The taller boy paled. When Kendall peered down, he saw what had alarmed Carlos. A bloodstain blossomed over the tail of his shirt and waistband of his jeans. Red drops rained from the wound and made a puddle on the floor.

At the realization, the pain hit him.

"Woah, Kendall, hey," James cried, reaching out to steady the blond. Carlos and Logan rushed over. Kendall gave a wounded gasp as he was lowered carefully to the floor. A harsh jab of pain rocketed from his lower abdomen. He was disturbingly aware of the fact that his shirt was clinging wetly to his skin. Grimacing, he brought a tentative hand to the injured area and groaned when his fingers brushed over the wound.

Exhaustion caught up to him as the last of his fuel began to burn away. He was done fighting. Now it was time to rest.

"What's wrong with him?" James asked, voice wavering. "Kendall? Kendall, can you hear us?"

Tiny black spots flashed before him with every heavy blink. He was at blissful peace, knowing all his friends were safe. He was ready to succumb to the darkness that was begging to pull him into unconsciousness. James was alive. Logan and Carlos were okay. His baby sister was—

"Katie!" Kendall shrieked, bolting upwards. He screamed after the sudden motion, feeling as though a hot knife had sliced through his bruised skin. Involuntary tears pricked at his eyes as the three of his friends gave him a mild push to get him to lay on his back. Carlos slipped his hands beneath Kendall's shoulder blades and lifted, resting Kendall's head in his lap.

"Katie," Kendall said again, feeling an all too familiar sense of panic begin to take root. He fumbled for the first body he could get his hands on, which happened to be James. Kendall grunted, fingers coiling around a wad of James's shirt to get his attention. "Where's my sister, is she okay? Is she safe? Katie, please, and—and my mom…?" His head rolled to the side as his body desperately sought repose. Gritting his teeth, Kendall forced himself to look back to James. He had to know where his family was before he slipped away. He had to.

James placed his hand lightly on Kendall's, silently coaxing the blond to remove it. "Katie's fine, Kendall. I brought her downstairs to Bitters' office. And your mom's not even home." His voice was so strong and even, yet tears were running down his face and dripping off his chin.

Logan, on the other hand, was frenzied. He knelt on the other side of Kendall, leaning over to examine Kendall's wound. "H-Has anyone called nine-one-one?" he stammered.

"Yeah, I did downstairs," James replied. "Police are on their way." He sneaked a quick glance over to Chris's motionless body.

Kendall held his breath in his attempts to ride through the pain. "They were already on their way," he choked out. Letting out an awkward wheeze, his entire body lurched forward. One hand instinctively raced to hold his injury, but stopped when he remembered touching it would only make it throb and sting even more. "I… I escaped. S-Stole a… a car…" He was closer and closer to shutting his eyes.

"Seriously?" Two hands gingerly sifted through Kendall's hair, and he immediately recognized the impressed voice as belonging to Carlos. Then another hand—Logan's hand— was cautiously lifting the tail of Kendall's shirt. Kendall would have objected, but trusted his friend knew what he was doing.

"Looks like a bullet graze," Logan informed. "I don't think it hit you directly, but…" He trailed off. The wound was a long, dark mark, the skin around it red and inflamed. Blood seeped from the sweltering opening, running off the side of Kendall's stomach and adding to the small pool on the floor. Kendall hardly noticed. He peered at James, who was staring in shock at the blistering gash cutting across Kendall's flesh. Shifting to Logan, Kendall could see the fright in his eyes as they traveled up and down Kendall's weak figure, obviously noting the other bloodstains that had been previously afflicted.

But it was okay. Everyone was okay.

His eyelids fluttered shut.

"Hey!" Logan instantly cried. Then the voice softened. "Kendall. Kendall, hey." A hand stroked over his cheek, coaxing him to pay attention. "Eyes open, come on. Keep your eyes open. You have to stay awake. Please, Kendall, we just got you back. We can't lose you again." Logan sniffled and pushed away the wet hair hanging over Kendall's forehead. "Kendall, we can't lose you again."

"Is he okay?" wondered Carlos.

Then, another noise; a loud bang that seemed to echo through the entire apartment. Kendall was vaguely aware of shouts identifying themselves as police officers, but fully mindful of the fingers leaving his hair and the hand being removed from his face. His body ran cold as the touches left, but he was still satisfied.

Now, finally, he could rest.


	27. Glued Together

**A/N: Thanks for all the feedback last chapter, guys! This one's kind of a break from the heavy stuff that's been happening. Hope you enjoy it. Also, if you recieved multiple email alerts when I updated, it's probably because I had to fix this really glaring type-o I discovered seconds after I published this chapter. Yeah. There's probably more. Just ignore them.**

**Warnings: Scented soap misuse.**

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Chapter 27  
Glued Together

"This is so _boring_," Carlos whined.

He was fairly certain he was going to die. His brain felt like it was becoming heavier by the second, and soon his skull would crack open and ooze a mushy puddle onto the floor. He couldn't handle any more tedious waiting. He just couldn't. It had been twelve hours since police and an ambulance arrived at the crib and took Kendall away. _Twelve_.

"Aaaagh," he moaned, hoping Logan or James would pick up on his distress. He was currently upside down on a chair, the cushion nearly flat from begin occupied for so long, with his legs draped idly over the back. Carlos had counted forty-two ceiling tiles before he decided math was dumb.

James cast him an empathetic look, but ultimately kept his mouth shut. Carlos was secretly a little glad. James had been acting strange ever since Big Time Rush, Mrs. Knight and Katie arrived at the hospital. One minute he was his usual, goofy self, and the next he was serious and somber.

But Carlos was desperate to alleviate his boredom. He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled noisily. "I mean, why do we have to just _sit_ here? Can't the hospital, like, invest in a deck of cards or something?"

"Carlos, I swear if you complain one more time…," started Logan.

"Yeah, yeah, I know; you'll hit me in the face." At the mention of the last word, he cautiously lifted his gaze to his brooding friend and observed the pink, puffy skin around Logan's nose. A doctor had examined him and determined it wasn't broken, but Logan hadn't seemed too concerned about it anyway.

"I'm just so _bored_," the helmeted boy groused.

"Play a game on your phone," suggested Logan.

"I can't, remember? I brought it in the bathtub with me and now it doesn't work."

"Why did you have your phone in the tub?"

"It was dirty."

"…Of course it was."

Carlos groaned for the millionth time and flipped over so he sat upright. James ducked out of the way to avoid Carlos's legs as he swung himself around. There was a television in one corner of the room, but the only thing it'd been airing for the past thirty minutes was some infomercial pitching a fad diet no one cared about. James, though earlier had seemed equally bored as Carlos, had somehow managed to find entertainment in what was playing on screen. It was better than what he'd done to occupy himself before; James had at one point resorted to untying his shoes and lacing then up again, but had done it so many times that the sides of his thumbs swelled and became blistery and gross.

"And the cafeteria's closed," Carlos reminded the guys when his stomach rumbled, "so we can't even go get food. How are we supposed to go all night without something to eat?"

Logan rubbed at his temples. "For the last time," he snapped, "there are vending machines in the hall. If you need money I'll lend you some. Actually, you know what? Here. Here's five dollars to shut up. _Please_." He reached for his wallet as he spoke, then angrily tossed a crumpled bill in Carlos's general direction.

Carlos crossed his arms over his chest. "Well," he huffed. Someone was sure in a bad mood.

The money landed on the floor by his feet, but he didn't move to pick it up. It was the money Mrs. Knight had given Logan to buy something in the cafeteria for supper, but he'd never used it. He was being really boring; almost as boring as the whole atmosphere of the dreary building. Mostly Logan sat solemn-faced and stared at his shoes, but occasionally his eyes would glaze over in this glassy sort of way, and he'd resemble a statue, not moving an inch or acknowledging Carlos when he ripped the corners off the "How to Talk to Your Children About Dying" pamphlets and flicked them at his friend's head. Sometimes James would shake Logan's shoulder and ask if Logan was 'with him'—whatever that meant.

At least Katie had been some fun. After lunch she'd accompanied Carlos to the gift shop so they could buy a get well present for Kendall. He would have went himself, but the thought having to go alone sent chills down his spine.

There was nothing good to choose from; Kendall wouldn't want a stuffed bear or a balloon or a dumb card. Carlos ended up purchasing a set of scented soaps that came in a little wicker basket. Kendall had looked gross when Carlos last saw him, so he figured his friend would appreciate the present. Mrs. Knight said it was very thoughtful, then tucked it away for safekeeping until they were allowed to see Kendall.

That was another thing bothering Carlos. Why couldn't they see Kendall _now_? About thirty minutes ago, a doctor came in and informed Kendall was finally awake, except no one was allowed to visit him because the doctor had to do some tests, or something stupid like that. The good news of Kendall's consciousness calmed the nerves of Mrs. Knight and Katie, and the two drifted off into much-needed slumber and hadn't moved since. They sat in the opposite row of chairs, across from Carlos and the guys. Katie was snuggled closely to her mother; the two were melted to each other like ice cream.

Mmm. Ice cream.

"Do the vending machines have ice cream?"

Logan clenched his fists. He'd been doing that a lot this afternoon. "No, Carlos. They just have regular items like candy bars and chips."

Sighing dramatically, Carlos slid hopelessly down his chair until he fell off his seat and was sprawled across the cold floor. He was going to die. The hospital was so agonizingly _tormenting_. He'd done everything there was to do—like ride all the elevators with James, color with the little kids in the pediatric ward, and chat with an old guy from Nebraska about corn. One time Carlos and James got in trouble on the radiology floor, because apparently teenage boys were not permitted to play with the x-ray machines. But it wasn't like it was their fault. There wasn't a sign.

At around six o'clock, the mind-numbing boredom caused more issues. James had discovered an unlocked supply closet and tried to play doctor, but Logan scolded that impersonating a medical practitioner was a serious legal offense, so James had to put all the cool doctor stuff back where he'd found it. Logan was still grumpy, so as a retaliation James shoved his icky blister hand in Logan's face. Then Logan was even more mad, and Mrs. Knight was mad, and James was mad, so Carlos tried to be mad too, even though he wasn't exactly sure what he should be mad about. Eventually a security guard told them all to leave, and after three failed attempts to sneak back inside, Mrs. Knight resorted to exploiting her daughter's big brown eyes to the hospital staff. The group was permitted back inside on the condition they behave.

Then it was boring again.

"Logaaan. Can't we _do _something?"

"Shh," Logan hissed. "Keep it down. You don't want to wake Mrs. Knight or Katie."

"They're not going to wake up," Carlos dismissed. "Come on. Wanna play I-Spy? Or rock-paper-scissors?"

"No."

"Pleeease, Logan?"

"No, Carlos. I'm not in the mood. Ask James."

"Jaaames."

"Did you know Karen from Seattle lost fifteen pounds in one month by sticking to the diet advertised?" James was fixated to the television screen, nodding respectfully at the bikini-clad woman standing next to a 'before' picture of her former, heavier self.

Carlos stuffed the sleeve of his sweatshirt in his mouth and wailed in despair.

He rolled over on the floor and squinted at the harsh fluorescent lights above. He didn't care about stupid Karen from stupid Seattle losing fifteen stupid pounds. Carlos didn't want to watch TV—and not just because the infomercial was unappealing to him. The evening news had aired a story about Kendall. Mrs. Knight, Katie and Logan didn't want to watch, and James had been in the restroom playing with the soap dispenser to entertain himself, but Carlos saw the whole piece. It was actually a fairly long segment. The reporter had a timeline of events, ranging from the day Kendall left to today when he escaped and came home. There were interviews with Officer McNair and some other officers who'd been involved in Redgrove, assuring the public that Kendall was currently in the hospital and the men responsible for kidnapping him were arrested. They also said Carlos, Logan and James were 'doing fine,' but no one had ever asked him that.

The guy who'd been in the apartment—Christopher Pryce, according to the TV and Gustavo—had a really funny mug shot. There was a giant red mark on his forehead where Kendall had slammed him against the counter, and one of his eyes was swollen completely shut. The skinny guy from the warehouse was named Jason Darrow; his picture was a little scary. The last guy's name was Rodney Heeger, but his mug shot was just a normal, unsmiling picture. At least they were in jail now. Probably. Carlos wasn't really sure, but he figured McNair would make sure those bad guys didn't hurt anyone else.

"Hey, guys!" cried Carlos, suddenly leaping to his feet. Logan cautioned him to lower his voice, but when Carlos turned and saw that Mrs. Knight and Katie hadn't moved, he ignored his friend's warning. "Remember when Kendall, like, ran through the door? And he totally grabbed that gun from Chris's hand and was all like, _bam_!"

"Yeah, dude, that was so cool!" James gushed, finally breaking away from the infomercial's alluring spell. He sprang out of his seat. "Kendall was like one of those guys in an action movie!"

"Remember when he punched Chris?"

"No, I didn't get to see it, remember?"

"Oh yeah, cause you ran away."

"I did not run away!"

"Yeah you did."

"Only because someone had to get Katie out of the apartment."

"Dude. We totally should've had Katie beat him up."

"I know, right? We—"

"Will you two knock it off?" Logan angrily interrupted. He was red-faced and had his hands balled so tightly his knuckles were white. "Can you at least _pretend_ like what happened had an effect on you? It wasn't 'cool', okay? Don't you understand? Don't you have any idea—" He broke off abruptly, too choked up to finish his sentence. With a dark chuckle and a quick wipe at his eyes, he turned his head away as though he wanted to disappear.

Suddenly feeling a little less giddy, Carlos rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. The outburst had startled him, and now guilt sank his stomach.

James sighed and lowered himself beside Logan. He was becoming an expert at handling difficult situations. It was almost frightening how James could switch into 'Kendall-mode' and calm frayed tempers. Carlos liked James better in James-mode. Kendall was the only one who belonged in Kendall-mode.

The taller boy gave Logan a nudge to the arm. "Of course we're shaken up, man," he assured, gently. "What happened was horrible. More than that, really. It was a nightmare. For everyone."

Logan looked at him.

"But if I keep thinking about it—about how scared I was, and those gunshots, and how Kendall looked today when he burst through the door… I think I'd go crazy." He paused, then shook his head. "I can't think about how it _really _happened. I have to make light of it somehow."

Carlos nodded vigorously. The situation wasn't as frightening if he thought of it as a joke. Jokes were funny. Funny wasn't scary.

Logan nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough," he relented. "But don't joke about it around me, okay? Because I have to think about it the way it actually happened. I just… I need to."

"Deal."

Carlos grinned, happy the heavy veil over the room had finally lifted. "_Now_ do you guys wanna do something?"

"Like what?" said James.

"Like… ride the elevators?"

"We've already done that a hundred times."

"Find Corn Guy?"

"No."

"Go look for pennies in the couch cushions in the lounge?"

"You know what's bugging me?" Logan interjected, eyebrows crinkled in that way which meant he was pondering something carefully.

Carlos instantly thought of a million retorts, but Logan allowed no time for guessing. "When Kendall saw James… He just had this really strange look on his face."

"I noticed that too," James said, frowning pensively. His voice was quiet. "He even asked me if I was real."

Carlos thought back to twelve hours ago and remembered how abnormal Kendall seemed. At first he figured Kendall was just relieved to be home, and struggling to accept that his terrifying journey had come to an end. But then Kendall's eyes fell on James, and Carlos wasn't so sure if that was truly the case. Kendall had acted like James was a ghost.

It sure was peculiar. "We should ask him about it," Carlos proposed. "Let's go see him."

"We can't, remember?" A typical Logan response.

"Sure we can," replied the Latino with a mischievous lift of his lips. "We just have to get creative."

"Yeah!" cried James, excitedly. "Don't you wanna see him, Logan?"

Logan shrugged.

Carlos hated shrugs. Shrugs only meant what you wanted them to mean.

"We're going to get in trouble," reminded the cautious member of the group, "and when we do those security guards won't let us back in and we'll be forced to wait outside in the horde of interviewers. Then not only will we be unable to see Kendall, but Mrs. Knight will be furious."

"We're not going to get caught," Carlos insisted. They'd sneaked past security hundreds of times before. It was important to have a plan, but the key was having a backup plan that could provide an easy cover if the first plan failed. And, because Carlos had been sitting with absolutely nothing to do for twelve insufferably long hours, he'd had plenty of time to formulate a way to reach Kendall. "Just follow my lead."

James eagerly jumped to his feet, but Logan remained sitting. "No, you guys."

"Why not?" pressed Carlos.

"Shall I reiterate the doctor told us we weren't allowed?"

"So what? They're probably done with their stupid tests by now."

"It was half an hour ago."

Carlos huffed in frustration. "Well what are they even testing for, anyway?"

"Physical trauma previously unaccounted for, mental evaluations, stability of—"

"Blah blah blah stuff no one cares about. Logaaan, come _on_. I bet Kendall misses us. And as his best friends, we need to make sure he's not lonely." Carlos crossed his arms, firm in his opinion.

James looped a supportive arm around his friend's shoulder. "I agree."

"Two against one, Logan," Carlos pointed out. "You lose."

Logan bit down on his lower lip in thought. "What about Mrs. Knight and Katie?"

"We can sneak them in later."

"That's not really what I meant—"

"Onward!" James and Carlos cried simultaneously. They each grabbed a wrist and pulled a pessimistic Logan to his feet. Leaving Mrs. Knight and Katie sound asleep, the three darted across the waiting room and to the hall. Carlos suddenly remembered Kendall's gift. He turned around and tip-toed to Mrs. Knight's purse. The soaps laid right on top.

Logan rolled his eyes slightly, but he was probably just jealous he didn't think to get Kendall such a cool present. With the wicker basket in his hand, Carlos skipped ahead of the group.

He held out a hand for his friends to wait, then poked his head around the corner and scanned the corridor. There was a nurse with a clipboard at the end of the hall. Without looking up, she disappeared into a room. Carlos gestured for his friends to follow. The boys walked quickly and casually, except for Logan, who blushed and frequently checked over his shoulder for signs of trouble.

James smacked the back of Logan's head. "Be cool."

"I am cool," Logan rejoined, swatting the hand away. Despite his defensive remark, he lowered his head and nervously stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

The nurses' station was about midway down the hall. There were two women behind a large, tall desk. One clicked away on a keyboard, and the other tiredly shuffled papers. Carlos immediately ducked behind the nearest potted plant.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Logan whispered to Carlos, hovering over his shoulder.

"Please. I got this." He tugged at his collar for dramatic effect. "Hold my soap."

James offered him an encouraging pat to the back as he left the concealment of the plastic foliage. Taking a deep breath, Carlos approached the desk and slapped a hand on the surface to get the computer lady's attention.

"Yes?" she said.

"Yeah, hi, um, I think there's a problem over by the restrooms." All those years of lying to Logan about doing his homework were beginning to pay off. "Some guy was going nuts and, like, foaming at the mouth or something." He shrugged. "It's probably rabies."

He swore he heard the sound of a hand slapping a forehead behind him.

The nurses exchanged glances while Carlos nodded convincingly. The one who'd been sorting papers declared she'd check it out, then hustled down the hall.

"Aren't you going to go help her?" Carlos asked the other nurse. "I mean, what if he bites her or something?"

"Joni will handle it," assured Computer Lady. She narrowed her eyes and stood from her seat. "So what did you see, exactly? You think this man is in trouble?"

Carlos's stomach dropped to his feet. "Um, yeah, well… You know, he was just, uh…" He fumbled for an answer for several seconds before he decided to use his backup plan. "Actually, there was another guy with him. Yeah. He looked pretty sick, too."

The nurse squinted suspiciously.

"I'm serious," he pushed.

"If there's a problem, Joni and the other nurses will handle it. I have to stay by the desk incase a patient needs me. What's your name, anyway?"

Carlos blinked. "Um." Then he grinned and bolted away, leaving Computer Lady confused and disturbed.

He arrived unnoticed to the plant where Logan and James hid, both frowning. "Dude. That was the worst backup plan ever," James said.

"That nurse is smart. She's on to us," Carlos muttered. "But it's okay. I have another plan. It's the backup plan for the backup plan."

"Well you better hurry, because any minute now that nurse is going to realize you lied about the rabies guy," said Logan.

"Okay, okay. Here's the plan: we pretend James was just on this expedition to Peru, right? And he got this flesh-eating bacteria that—"

"Absolutely not."

"Ugh, fine! _You _think of a plan," Carlos grumbled. Stupid Logan and his stupid… stupidness.

Logan furrowed his brow, thinking. He parted the artificial leaves and surveyed the nurses' station. Logan did possess the ability to think of a good idea if needed.

James sighed, impatient. "_I_ have a plan," he said. Before anyone had a chance to inquire about his suggestion, James reached into the wicker basket and grabbed the first bar his fingers touched. He whipped the soap as hard as he could, then quickly dropped behind the protective fake plant.

Carlos started to cry out in horror at the sight of his beloved soap flying through the air, but Logan stifled the noise by clapping a hand over the Latino's mouth. The little bar struck like a bullet into the side of a filing cabinet, creating a sharp metallic _thud_. Computer Lady gasped and jumped out of her seat. When she was distracted, James leapt to his feet. "Run!" he whispered urgently.

The three made a clumsy dash for the other end of the hall, Carlos making sure to hold tight to the remaining soaps in case James had another plan. They ceased running when they were a safe distance from the desk.

"This is so bad," Logan said, fearfully. He rotated in a circle, examining every which way for lurking hospital staff. "Do you realize what's going to happen if we get caught?"

James ignored him. "What room is Kendall in, anyway?"

As if on cue, a door about five rooms down opened. McNair and another officer stepped out. James immediately looped his arm around Logan to cover the startled yelp that burst from his mouth, and with his other hand grabbed the hood of Carlos's sweatshirt and pulled him back against the wall. There were no potted plants or corners or alcoves to provide cover, so Carlos held his breath, squeezed his eyes shut, clutched the basket of soaps to his chest, and tried his hardest to become invisible.

He finally opened an eye when he heard James exhale a relieved breath. The officers had exited down the other end of the corridor.

Heart fluttering excitedly, Carlos bounced to the room and peered through the tiny window. He couldn't see much besides the foot of a bed, a window, and a bunch of frightening machines.

"Is anyone else in there?" asked James, craning his neck to get a better look.

"I think it's okay," Carlos replied. Grinning gleefully, he opened the door and stepped inside, Logan and James following closely behind.

Kendall laid on the little bed with a thin sheet covering his legs. One of his arms was stuck with a bunch of tubes that connected to a tall machine with blinking lights, and the other was wrapped thickly in a gauze bandage. Most of the skin on his face was dappled shades of red and purple. His eyes were open, but he looked at nothing.

"Kendall!" cried Carlos. He rushed to the left of the bed, remembered the IV, then changed his mind and went to the other side.

Kendall stared confusedly, jaw falling slack as he drank in the sight of his friends nervously shuffling into the room. His groggy eyes shot open wide when Carlos leaned over to hug him. "I missed you!" the Latino gushed. "Are you okay?"

Kendall's body stiffened, but Carlos didn't let go. He pressed his head against his friend's, smiling delightedly, and tried to ignore Kendall's flinch. As he was about to pull away, the stench of sweat and blood hit his nose.

"Dude," said Carlos, grimacing, "you stink." He held up the basket of soaps. "But don't worry, because I got you a get well present!" He thrust the basket into Kendall's lap, who twitched in surprise and stared at the gift as though it would bite. "See, there _were _five bars, but then James threw Berry Good Time at a nurse. So now there's Luscious Lavender, Hawaiian Garden, Feelin' Beachy, and this weird-smelling one called Dr. Feelgood, but I don't really get what that's supposed to mean—"

"Carlos," Logan scolded.

Carlos promptly shut his mouth at Logan's harsh tone. Fearing he'd done something wrong, he turned towards James and Logan. Neither were smiling.

Carlos awkwardly cleared his throat. "I'll just, um, set these over here." He took the soap basket from Kendall and placed it on a tray table next to the bed.

Kendall's eyes shifted warily from person to person. His green irises shimmered, but not in a good way. Somehow the eyes were darker, sunken further back into their sockets. They didn't look like Kendall's eyes.

Reality came crashing back brutally hard. Kendall appeared _different_—and not just because of the tubes and bruises. He seemed weaker. More fragile. The bright red rings around his wrists were a stark contrast to his otherwise ashen skin. It was as though Kendall had been broken and glued back together, except the glue had yet to dry.

Uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Kendall still seemed to be processing what was happening, and Logan and James continued to scrutinize their frail friend. But Carlos didn't really understand their unease. Everyone was together again. As far as Carlos was concerned, they should be breaking out the sparkling cider and celebrating. Yeah, the past few days were horrible and frightening and the memories would probably never go away, but it wasn't like Kendall was going to _die_. Kendall could never die. He'd get better, because he always got better.

Kendall's body noticeably tensed. Carlos followed his gaze and saw Kendall was staring directly at James. His expression morphed again; instead of bewildered, he seemed frozen in astonishment.

James cautiously approached the side of the bed. "Hey," he said simply, giving a shy wave.

Kendall's mouth opened and closed a few times as he groped for something to say. Carlos inclined forward to hear. When Kendall finally found his voice, his words were hoarse and uneven. "A-are you…? James, are—? I mean…"

"I'm real, if that's what you're asking." He flashed the famous James Diamond pearly whites and stopped at Kendall's side. Kendall attempted to sit up straighter, but winced in discomfort and ultimately stayed how he was.

Carlos watched intently, absorbing every detail of the reunion. He couldn't decipher the foreign look on Kendall's face; it was as though Kendall was seeing James for the first time in years. James proffered a hand for Kendall to shake before he leaned down for a friendly hug, but Kendall squeezed the hand with his calloused fingers and didn't let go. James did his best to loop his other arm around Kendall, but the position was awkward and resulted in Kendall's face being pressed into James's shoulder.

When James tried to pull away, Kendall shuddered and made a desperate grab for his friend's wrist. "Thought you were dead," he croaked, then sniffled a little. "Though they'd killed you."

Carlos whipped his helmet-clad head to James.

"What? Why'd you think that?" James asked, incredulous.

Kendall's grip tightened. "Heard the gunshot. After Chris took me. I heard it."

James narrowed his eyes in thought. "You mean at the warehouse? That guy Jace?" He shrugged. "Jace never shot at me. You probably heard the police."

There was a long pause as Kendall allowed the words to sink in. He slowly nodded his head, understanding. His fingers loosened their hold on James, but James left his arm where it was, anyway.

Now that the reunion was officially over, Carlos bounced on his heels, eager to hear all about Kendall's adventure. "Hey, Kendall, so remember when you said you escaped and stole a car? Did you mean, like, really? Or were you kidding? Because we stole a car too. Well, your mom's car, actually, and Logan drove all through California—well, until James hit him with a bat and drove the rest of the way to Redgrove from this one gas station…" He trailed off when he noticed Kendall wasn't paying attention.

"Hey, Logan," Kendall greeted, softly.

Logan had been so quiet, Carlos forgot he was there. He sighed and waited for Logan to go give Kendall a hug or a handshake or something so they could return to exchanging stories. But Logan looked as strange as Kendall. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and continuously curled and uncurled his fists.

Logan swallowed hard, then looked at his feet. He shook his head. "I have to go."

James called out to him, but Logan strode out of the room without looking back.

The hold on James was finally released as Kendall slumped back, looking hurt. Carlos patted him reassuringly on the knee. "Don't worry. He's been like that all day."

"Yeah…," James agreed. He sounded a little distracted, like he was thinking about something else. He turned back to Kendall. "Anyway, how are you? How do you feel?"

Kendall sighed heavily. "Tired, I guess."

"How come we saw cops come out of your room before we came in?" wondered Carlos.

"They wanted to ask me about what happened. They said it was best to do it right away so I didn't forget anything." He gritted his teeth in pain and clutched a hand over his left side, where the doctor said he'd been grazed by a bullet.

"Does that hurt?" asked Carlos.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"Where's Mom and Katie?"

Carlos suddenly remembered they were trespassing. He caught James's glance before he spoke. "They're in the waiting room."

"Can they come in?"

"Uh… Probably not."

"You see," James started with a nervous laugh, "the thing is, we're not exactly supposed to be here—"

Carlos jumped when footsteps were heard entering the room. For a spilt second he thought it was Logan returning, but then a white coat came into view and his heart thudded against his ribs.

"Okay, Kendall, I just need to check your vitals before—" The doctor froze in her tracks when she saw James and Carlos. "Hey, who let you in here?"

Carlos was ready to accuse Joni or Computer Lady, but James was already screaming, "RUN!" and bolting for the door.

Carlos followed, nearly knocking over the dumbstruck doctor as he barreled past. He and James skidded into the hall. "BYE KENDALL WE LOVE YOU!" Carlos shrieked over his shoulder. They didn't stop running until they reached the safety of the potted plant.


	28. Adaptation

**A/N: Blah. I totally went back and rewrote my outline. So. After this chapter, I have decided there will be four more left, with the last being an epilogue. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Please continue to leave me feedback :)**

**Warnings: Angst, blood, and… minor self harm. I mean, it's not really intentional, I guess, it's just… I don't know. Read it and you'll get it.**

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Chapter 28  
Adaptation

"Yaaay! Kendall's coming home! Kendall's coming home!" Carlos happily sang, skipping down the hall with Logan trailing behind. He breezed by various strangers and further proclaimed his mirth. "Hey, lady, guess what? Kendall's coming home! Isn't that awesome? It's so awesome! Mister, wanna know something cool? My friend Kendall's coming home today. Yay yay yay! Kendall—"

"Carlos, cool it. You're freaking everybody out."

"I'M JUST SO EXCITED!" he screamed. A nurse passing him in the corridor reminded him to use his inside voice. Carlos clapped a hand over his mouth and gave the woman a thumbs-up sign. She smiled appreciatively and continued on her way.

"Logan," Carlos whispered when she was gone, "aren't you happy? I'm so happy."

"Yes, I know. The whole hospital knows."

"But I'm just so—"

"Happy?"

"Yeah!"

It was probably the best day ever. All the doctors were impressed by Kendall's speedy recovery. Once he was adequately fed and pumped with fluids, the only physical concerns remaining were his wounds possibly becoming infected. Carlos had been slightly nervous at that news, but only for a minute, because Logan explained that Kendall was taking antibiotics and had a minimal chance of becoming ill. So it was okay.

Officer McNair had dropped by several times since Kendall's stay. Each private visit was only a few minutes long and always resulted in McNair leaving the room with a grim look on his face. But that didn't necessarily mean what Kendall told him was bad or anything. Police officers had to look serious. It was practically part of the job description.

Carlos bounced into the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor. Logan followed. Once in, he leaned against the wall, hands jammed into his pockets and shoulders stiff. Logan's body language showed lack of tolerance, like he was ready to burst from frustration at any moment. Carlos wished he would have asked James instead of Logan to accompany him to the downstairs restroom, because Mr. Impatient Pants obviously didn't understand it was safer to travel in pairs.

Carlos could barely stand still. As the elevator ascended Logan scolded him to calm down. But how could he calm down? Kendall was coming home! It was the best news in the world. No more boring hospital, no more doctors, no more annoying therapists and security guards. Now everyone could go back to the crib and life could finally move on.

But despite that knowledge, something in his heart didn't feel quite right. Every time Carlos had a happy thought his heart would give a hard thump, like it was trying to tell him something. Mostly he ignored it, but today it was really starting to hurt.

The elevator arrived at their destination. When the doors slid open, Carlos turned to Logan. "You never said. Are you?"

"Am I what?" asked Logan as the two stepped out of the small box and into the hall.

"Aren't you happy that Kendall's coming home?"

Logan regarded him as though he'd just asked the stupidest question in the world. "Why are you even asking me that?"

"Because you never answer."

As predicted, Logan fell silent and pretended the question was never proposed. The strange feeling in Carlos's chest intensified. His joy briefly halted as he recognized the sensation as creeping trepidation.

But it was okay, because things would get better. Things always got better.

The two continued on and passed the waiting room, where many hours had been spent. Carlos hurried by, barely even glancing over. He hated to think of that place.

Kendall's room was down the next hall. "Come on," he urged Logan. "Let's go!" He jumped into the air again, upset heart momentarily forgotten, and prepared to dash down the remaining corridor.

"Wait," said Logan. He reached out to grab Carlos's arm. "Hold on a second."

"Logaaan," Carlos whined.

"Carlos, listen, okay? I think we need to talk."

"Can't we do it _later_?" He tried to turn and break away.

Logan tugged him back. "No, man, we need to do it now."

Carlos shot a longing look down the hall. He sighed and reluctantly allowed Logan to lead him the opposite direction. He had a feeling Logan was about to lecture him for acting 'immature' or something stupid like that, because Logan had a pensive look on his face that Carlos had only seen a few times before. But Carlos was ready to argue back. There was nothing wrong with being happy and optimistic.

"Where're we going?" the Latino wondered as they cut through the dreaded waiting room.

Logan ushered him into a secluded room Carlos had never noticed before. The room was fairly small, but had dark green carpet, a coffee machine, a couple arm chairs, and a TV that could probably play something other than infomercials. Carlos was appalled that so much time had been spent in the waiting room instead of this fantastic place.

Logan closed the door behind them, and Carlos immediately changed his mind. This room was too quiet. Silence was the worst sort of environment to be in when you were trying not to think about something.

"Carlos…," Logan started, scratching the back of his head. "There's something I don't think you understand."

"What do you mean? What's there to understand?" Any remaining delight he felt was frozen once more. This wasn't how Logan's lectures usually started. This was how parents talked to their kids when they were trying to deliver bad news.

"It's just… Kendall's been through a lot, you know?"

"Yeah, so have we."

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, Carlos. Not like us. He's been though worse."

Carlos rolled his eyes at Logan's silliness. "But it's okay though, because I gave him those soaps he can use when he gets home—"

"No, Carlos, it's _not_ okay," Logan snapped.

Carlos jumped.

"See? You don't get it. Scented soaps, or cards or flowers or balloons aren't going to make it all better. It's not going to change anything!"

The way Logan's voice rose made Carlos take a cautious step backwards. This time his pulse sped in fear. The angry flash in Logan's eyes acted like a window, showing Carlos all the emotions trapped inside and begging to be released.

Logan took a breath to calm himself. "Let me ask you something," he said. "What do you think is going to happen when Kendall comes home?"

Carlos fiddled with the hem of his sweatshirt, unsure of how to answer. "What do you mean? Nothing's going to happen. Everything will be how it was before, that's all." His heart told him he was lying.

"Elaborate."

Carlos shifted uncomfortably. "I mean, I guess we'll… I don't know. Go hang by the pool. And maybe get back to the studio, and chill in the crib. All the stuff we used to do." He avoided Logan's eyes. "When Kendall's home, we'll all be together again, so things will go back to normal."

"Look, man." Logan's voice lowered to a tone more tender. "You need to be prepared for some changes. Those men did some awful things to Kendall. I mean, you heard what Kendall said. He thought James had been killed. And he probably figured if me and you weren't held captive by those other guys, we were dead too. To have that weighing on you…" He shook his head. "It's a wonder he's still sane, right?"

Carlos wrung his hands together to keep them from shaking. "What are you saying?" His voice refused to function louder than a whisper.

"I'm saying Kendall was beaten up, Carlos!" Logan cried.

Carlos yelped and leapt backwards.

"Can't you see him? When you look at him, can't you see?"

Why did Logan look like that? His eyes seemed to glow. Redness flushed his normally pale cheeks. His jaw was clenched. Every typical characteristic of Logan was gone and replaced by those of the hateful men from Redgrove. The bitter words hit Carlos like a punch. He whimpered and cowered towards the wall, afraid Logan would strike him with his tightly balled fists. Carlos didn't want to fight.

"The other day it hurt Kendall just to try to sit up! He was dehydrated, he'd barely eaten, he's black and blue all over. For crying out loud, Carlos, those aren't exactly signs of an easy time! Why do you think he never answers when you ask him what happened, huh? Why do you think he flinches whenever someone enters the room? We're probably never going to know what truly happened to him while he was with those men, and frankly, I'm not sure if I even _want _to know. I don't want to hear Kendall describe the nightmare he endured just because he felt obligated to save our lives!"

"L-Logan…," Carlos squeaked, raising his hands to shield his face. Never before had Carlos witnessed Logan with such a wild look in his eyes. There were so many emotions lurking there, just waiting for their chance rush out. Logan's outburst was a preamble to what was really there, hiding just below the surface, ticking away until detonation. Nothing had diminished, no amount of scorn or contempt was eased; just intensified and buried.

He wondered when Logan had started feeling this way, and why it had taken until now for him to notice. And if Logan had so much pent up fury, did that mean James did, too? Did that mean Carlos should? And what about Kendall? Were they all destined to become rage-filled monsters?

Would they all be like Chris?

His vision suddenly blurred from a mixture of fear and confusion.

After a long silence, Logan took a deep breath and let his shoulders sag. When he met Carlos's gaze he held up his hands in a placating manner. "I'm saying," Logan tried again, gentler, "when Kendall gets home, he's probably not going to be the same Kendall you remember. He's going to be different."

Carlos's bottom lip trembled.

"Remember the first night we were at home after the police rescued us in Redgrove? Remember how we felt afterwards?"

"Yeah," Carlos murmured, sniffling.

"Kendall had felt like that for days," Logan said, grimly. "Only it was worse."

Carlos's stomach sank to his feet. He was afraid to ask, but his mouth said the words anyway: "H-how worse?"

"Like, ten times worse."

"_Ten_?"

"Yeah."

He stiffened as he instantly recalled how that night had felt. Every detail was cruelly fresh in his mind—the tears, the apprehension, the gut-wrenching grief. He remembered thinking and even believing something so anguishing could only exist in a nightmare. Surely nothing was worse than that night, let alone _ten whole times _worse_. _Logan was just over exaggerating. Yeah. Because he did that sometimes. Besides, how could Logan possibly know what Kendall felt while he was away? It wasn't like Kendall had told him. Kendall had barely spoken to anyone since his admission to the hospital. Obviously Logan was just speculating, and Logan was _wrong_, because Logan could be wrong sometimes.

Carlos's heart lurched, detecting his lie.

Only it wasn't a lie. It wasn't. It _wasn't_.

He clutched a hand over his chest and let out a pained whine.

"Look," Logan said apologetically, "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just telling you this so you don't get hurt."

Carlos's throat swelled so tightly he feared he'd start to choke on his own words. "If you didn't want to hurt me then why'd you even say anything at all?" And then his heart ached excruciatingly and his tear ducts ignored his brain's desire to stay dry. His shoulders shook as he sobbed. They were small, quiet noises he desperately tried to suppress, but doing so just made them louder. Embarrassed, Carlos rubbed futilely at his downcast eyes.

"Aw, Carlos, come on." Logan approached him and placed a consoling hand on his friend's shoulder. "Don't cry. Please don't cry. I didn't mean to make you sad." He gave the shoulder an assuring squeeze, but Carlos didn't react. "Kendall's still coming home, and that's a good thing, right?"

"But it won't be _normal_," he hiccupped. This time his heart didn't lurch. "Logan, why can't it be normal?" He grabbed his friend's shirt.

With gentle fingers, Logan wordlessly peeled him away. Carlos was offered a minute to compose himself in the silence of the small room before Logan stepped back and sighed in defeat. "Come on. Let's go."

* * *

Kendall picked at the scab on his knuckle, intent on making it bleed.

He watched as the skin around the scrape reddened and swelled. It should hurt. He should be able to feel some sort of twinge every time he flexed his finger. At first Kendall figured his numbness was a result of the pain meds the doctors had been feeding him, but now he wasn't so sure.

He'd been home for almost three hours, and was beginning to wonder if things would ever be normal again. The guys were unhurt, Mrs. Knight and Katie were alright, and Kendall was alive. Everyone was fine. So why couldn't things be like before?

Sure, he should have seen these things coming. He should have realized that the moment he walked out of the apartment nothing would ever be the same. Kendall had simply assumed he'd be dead, and wouldn't have to deal with any of the inevitable changes. He could see the impact he'd left on his family—his mother and sister had become overly affectionate, James was hardened, like a soldier who'd seen one too many battles, Logan was withdrawn and virtually silent, and ever since Kendall had been discharged from the hospital Carlos had seemed unusually crestfallen.

Kendall once again dug his fingernail beneath the scab and peeled it up. A small bead of blood immediately oozed from the reopened wound. He subtly wiped his knuckle on the thigh of his jeans. No one seemed to notice.

He thought being back at the crib would make him feel again. Kendall had once accepted he'd never have another chance to sit on the orange couch in the living room and watch some TV with the guys and his sister. He figured he should be excited. Relieved. Grateful. But…

He wasn't.

"Say something."

Kendall looked down at Katie, snuggled close beside him on the couch, and met her big brown eyes. Leave it to his baby sister to realize his quietness.

Kendall didn't keep his mouth closed because he had nothing to say, he just figured it was easier on everyone if his voice worked at a minimum. It was all apart of adaptation—a primitive instinct Kendall had been quick to unearth. During his captivity it had been vital for him to adjust to his surroundings, whether he was in a large, sweltering building or a cold, black closet. This situation was no different. He had to absorb his new environment and determine the proper way to proceed. When Kendall did speak, careful consideration went into each word. The tiniest comment could set someone off. When he'd told his mother yes, the stitches in his arm had at one point pained him, and no, he didn't want to talk about what'd happened, she'd burst into tears both times. It seemed anything could cue waterworks.

"Like what?" he asked cautiously.

The guys, who occupied the other sections of the L-shaped couch, all turned their heads to him expectantly. Kendall pretended not to notice—just like he pretended not to notice the way James's foot constantly bounced, Logan frequently set his jaw, and Carlos had been hugging his arms around his body for the past hour.

"I don't know," Katie said. "Anything."

He lifted his shoulders, unsure of what to tell her, and instead settled on kissing the top of her head. Katie smiled at him, seemingly satisfied, and leaned her head against his arm. The guys didn't turn away; he could feel their gazes on his head and shivered in unease. For a while Kendall returned his attention to the cartoon playing on screen, but when the ending credits began to roll he decided enough was enough and looked over at Carlos. The helmeted boy immediately averted his red-rimmed eyes to the floor when he was caught gawking, then coughed and pretended to casually shift positions where he sat. Kendall only had to flick his gaze to James for the tallest member of BTR to also turn away, blushing.

But Logan was different. He had secluded himself on the far side of the couch, eyes narrowed as he stared Kendall down. By the way his mouth moved, it was easy to guess he was clenching his teeth. Kendall scanned every inch of his friend's face and recognized the look immediately: it was the same scowl Kendall had made whenever he was forced to interact with his captors.

So. Logan was angry.

Yeah, Kendall had left. And he knew the guys would be hurt. But what did that matter now? Kendall was back. The guys had been informed of the reason why he submitted himself to those men. Surely they could understand.

Logic told him to say something to Logan; anything to douse those flames pent up inside. Unfortunately, Kendall's heart gave him no motivation.

"What?" he dared to say, never breaking from Logan's intense eye-lock.

Logan's mouth opened for a second, entire body tensing as he did so. Carlos jumped at the abrupt way Logan stiffened, and Katie lifted her head. When Logan snuck a glance to Mrs. Knight in the kitchen, he shook his head, then wordlessly stood and retreated to his room.

And, okay. Something was seriously wrong. Not just with Logan, either; Carlos was fidgety and obviously swallowing back whimpers, James seemed to be on the verge of some sort of breakdown but was desperately trying to appear as though he wasn't, and Katie hugged her brother's arm closer.

This was home now. Kendall recalled how indescribably relieved he'd felt after reuniting with his friends—_all_ his friends—and had anticipated feeling the same way once he knew he was home for good.

But he couldn't feel relieved when he wasn't sure if he was here to stay. He never thought he'd be forced to leave home on that night he went with Jace and Rodney. After stealing a woman's car and dodging bullets—both literally and figuratively—he figured once he reached the apartment, he'd never have to say goodbye again. Then he'd awoke in a hospital room, confused and nearly in tears, while doctors poked and prodded him and assured over and over again that yes, his family was safe. So how could he be certain that wouldn't happen again? Kendall remembered Logan begging him to stay as he slipped into unconsciousness. He remembered the look on his friends' faces, a mixture of shock and relief, as they hugged him in the apartment.

He couldn't leave them again.

Looking down at his knuckle, Kendall wiped more blood on his jeans. He'd stay here. He wouldn't go see Gustavo and Kelly, who were scrambling to address the droves of reporters surrounding Rocque Records. He wouldn't reunite with Jo, or Camille or Guitar Dude or anyone else in the Palm Woods. At the hospital he'd promised his mother he'd schedule an appointment with a therapist, but somehow managed to convince Mrs. Knight to let him wait until 'he was ready to talk.'

"Okay, dinner's ready," Mrs. Knight called from the kitchen.

Kendall hadn't noticed the smell of the meal until she spoke. He rose from his seat automatically, Katie standing with him, and shuffled languidly to the kitchen table. Mrs. Knight pulled his chair out for him, which Kendall instantly thought strange, and then kissed his head. She'd been kissing him a lot lately.

The guys followed suit. The moment Carlos sat, he remembered Logan, then took off down the hall to retrieve him. Katie scooted her chair closer to Kendall, so that their shoulders practically touched. James stared at him.

He was already growing tired of the attention.

An examination of the dinner table revealed several of Kendall's favorite foods. Despite eating bland hospital food for several days, he wasn't all that hungry. Nonetheless, Kendall scooped some tater tots onto his plate. Adaptation. Mrs. Knight also had a bowl of fruit on the table, positioned closest to Kendall. He took a couple grapes and watched them roll around the plate before they settled by the tots.

When Carlos returned with Logan, both boys wordlessly found their seats. Logan kept his eyes downcast at all times, purposefully pretending as though Kendall didn't exist.

James was obviously desperate to break the tense silence. "This, um, looks great, Mrs. Knight." He stuck one end of a fish stick into his mouth.

She smiled lightly and passed him the fruit bowl, which he accepted halfheartedly.

The only noise in the apartment was the clinking of silverware and plates. Kendall chewed his food slowly, finding no taste on his tongue. He stole quick glances to his family and discovered they only seemed to stare at him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. Otherwise, they wouldn't meet his eyes.

But why? He loved them. Didn't they know that? Didn't they realize everything he did had been for them, so they could be safe? Didn't they _care_?

He reached for his glass of water and took a drink. As he began to set it down, he stopped, almost entranced by the shining glass in his hands. It was clear and crystalline in appearance, sparkling flawlessly around the oily fingerprints smudging the surface. But it deceived him. Though it seemed fragile and delicate, Kendall knew the glass was sturdy and would take plenty of force to break.

And Kendall remembered being in the cold closet, blind, but hearing the incessant _tip-tap_ of the dripping pipe. He remembered cupping water from the rest stop faucet in his hands while he sobbed for his friends. He remembered being restrained like an animal in an insufferably humid room without getting a drop to drink.

Suddenly Kendall hated the thing he held. He hated it so much that he shuddered, a racking jolt starting from his toes and shooting up to his throat, choking him, restricting air. He tried to breathe but found it impossible; his windpipe was clogged with emotion, his lungs inflated with fire. Pale fingers hugged the glass so tightly there was a hollow _pop_, followed by a wet trickle streaming over his hand. But it wasn't good enough. Body tensed to the point of quivering, Kendall applied more pressure to the glass, feeling it bite into the flesh of his fingers. Then all at once it gave, shards springing sideways and water gushing onto the tabletop.

Logan's fork clattered to the ground. James and Carlos shot back in their chairs.

"Kendall," Katie said, but he couldn't decide which emotion was in her voice. He looked down and saw his hand was frozen, hovering above the table and clutching onto broken fragments of glass. He slowly uncurled his fists, though the fragments didn't fall.

"What happened?" Mrs. Knight rushed towards him immediately. She gaped at the pieces jutting from his palms. "Logan, honey, go get the first aid kid. James, get some rags from the kitchen." Again she asked, "Kendall, what happened?"

Everyone dispersed at once, except for Logan, who seemed absorbed in a private realm of thought. Kendall had seen the look on his friend's face hundreds of times, usually when they were in school or working on homework. Logan was thinking about something he considered important; perhaps working out an equation, or calculating plausible options or solutions or _something_ that required his undivided attention.

"Um, I'll get it," Carlos hesitantly volunteered when Logan failed to move. Kendall watched him retreat to the bathroom while Mrs. Knight grabbed his wrist to better examine his numb hand. When Kendall shifted his gaze his eyes fell on Katie, who watched the blood spill from his hand and the water drip to the floor.

"Sweetheart."

Kendall turned to Mrs. Knight.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"It broke."

"How? Were you squeezing it?"

"No."

James returned with a stack of dishrags and passed one to Kendall's mother. She positioned her son's hand palm side up and stuck the rag on the underside to catch the blood that still fell. "Let's get to the sink," she instructed calmly, helping him from his chair.

Kendall was obedient. Carlos met them in the kitchen with the too-large medical kit Mrs. Knight kept stashed away in the bathroom. "Can I help?" he asked.

Kendall had been too occupied with staring at his hand, wondering why the pain had yet to reach him, that he failed to notice Logan creep up from behind. "I'll do it." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Mrs. Knight turned on the faucet and warned Kendall it might sting when she rinsed the wound. It didn't.

"We have to get the glass out," Logan directed. He gingerly pinched the largest shard between his thumb and forefinger, then dropped it into the sink. Despite his abrupt helpfulness, he sounded tired and unconcerned.

"You might need stitches," Mrs. Knight said to Kendall. Unlike with Logan, Kendall could sense the anxiety hiding in her words.

"No, I don't think so," replied the future doctor, which was good, because Kendall had no intentions of returning to the hospital. "The shard was barely stuck. The cuts aren't too deep, they're just bleeding a lot because the hand contains a lot of blood vessels." He stuck his own fingers beneath the water, rinsing away Kendall's blood. "Just make sure all the glass is out, apply pressure until the bleeding stops, then wrap it in gauze. I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure you can handle it, right, Kendall?"

Then he turned and went down the hall.

* * *

"You know, it kind of makes you look tough," Carlos said that night.

They used to joke about things like that back in Minnesota. Whenever a hockey fight broke out and one of the guys sported a black eye for a good week, it seemed they accumulated more phone numbers. Why girls liked a beaten up guy, Kendall would never understand.

He scrutinized the white bandage covering his hand and sighed. There was a small red circle marring the outer layer where the blood had seeped through. He was too lazy to change it, and had somehow managed to hide it from Mrs. Knight and the guys. Something told him Logan wouldn't care anyway, but the fact that Kendall had accomplished concealing the blood from Carlos and James was surprising.

Lying was hard work. Kendall's eyelids were as heavy as lead, and threatened to stay shut with each heavy blink.

Carlos poked him lightly in the shoulder. "How come you don't talk anymore?"

It was the first time Carlos had sounded even remotely similar to his usual self since this morning. "What do you mean?" Kendall asked.

Carlos frowned. "Now you're only doing it because I asked you about it."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know."

That was their problem. They all wanted him to speak, but no one knew what they wanted to hear.

"Does that hurt?" Carlos pointed to the bandage.

"Yeah," Kendall lied. Because it should hurt, right?

The Latino nodded slowly, then glanced over his shoulder at the hall. He fidgeted uncomfortably. "Kendall, I'm, uh, going to go to bed now." It was only ten o'clock.

Kendall shrugged indifferently, wondering why Carlos was bothering to tell him this.

"So… I just…" He started moving, then stopped, changing his mind. "I mean… Can we do something tomorrow? Like today, when we watched TV? Can we do that again?"

"I'll still be here in the morning, if that's what you're asking."

Carlos had a pained look on his face as he blurted out, "I missed you."

"Yeah, Carlos, I missed you too," said Kendall.

"Okay." Carlos looked like he wanted to say more, but ultimately turned away. "Um, goodnight," he said, and disappeared down the hall.

Kendall decided sleep sounded like a good idea, so he dragged himself to his own bedroom. It was exactly how he'd left it. He lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, then covered his face with his hands. One eye was bruised, and several cuts dashed across his cheekbones and brow. He scrubbed his rough hands over the skin, hoping to feel the pain. Eventually he gave up and ran his fingers across the comforter, trying to imagine how his first night sleeping at home would play out. Surely there were nightmares in his future.

Sighing once more, Kendall rose and changed into his pajamas. He accidentally caught his reflection in the mirror near the closet door. It wasn't the cuts, the bandages, or the paleness of his skin which frightened him. It was the look of the person staring back at him. The look in his own eyes.

Kendall reached out a cautious hand. His fingertip grazed over the smooth glass, touching the reflection of his face. How could that be him? How could there be so much hate lingering in his eyes when he was unable to feel it? Then he realized he _had _felt it. At dinner, when a sickening sense pleasure had rushed through his body as he crushed the glass of water in his hands. The rage had warmed him and chased away the dreary numbness that clung to everything else inside him.

And he wanted to feel that again.

Footsteps in the hall caused his head to turn. Mrs. Knight hustled into the room, then stopped and let out a breath when she saw her son. "There you are," she breathed, running a nervous hand through her hair. "Ready to get some sleep?"

Kendall nodded.

"Alright. Good. The doctors said to make sure you're well rested." She tried to smile. "Come on." In a few long strides she crossed the room and drew back the blankets on his bed. He remembered her doing this every night when he was little.

Kendall climbed into bed and rested his head on the pillow as his mother pulled the covers up to his chin. "If you need anything, come get me."

"Okay."

"I mean it. Or maybe you don't even want to sleep. Maybe you want to talk. Because you don't have to sleep. We could stay up, if you want."

"I'm fine, Mom."

Her eyes shimmered, and Kendall knew his words hadn't been careful enough.

"Of course you are," she said through a teary smile. She pushed back some of his hair. "I love you."

"Love you too," he replied. Kendall knew he meant it, even if he couldn't feel it.

One hug, two kisses, and another 'I love you' later, she finally left the room, closing the door behind her. Kendall was positive his mother wouldn't get a wink of sleep. Ten minutes later his bedroom door opened and she poked her head through, stared at him for a few seconds, then closed it. He had a feeling she'd be repeating the action all night.

As exhausted as he was, his eyes remained open wide in the darkness. There was a yellow glow seeping through the crack under his door. The hall light was the only thing preventing him from screaming. His room had become too much like the closet, too much like Chris's house. It shouldn't frighten him, because Chris was in jail. Chris was in jail. Chris was in jail.

Shadows crisscrossing in the light made him bolt up in bed as a frisson of fear shot through him.

Fear. It felt nice.

Part of him expected to see his mother, and part of him expected Chris, even though _he was in jail_. It was neither. Katie entered, quietly easing the door shut behind her. She flipped the switch to send sweet light into the room, and Kendall immediately relaxed.

"You're not asleep yet, right?" she asked him.

Kendall shook his head.

She remained standing timidly where she was, sporting her polka-dot pajamas. "Could I maybe… sleep by you tonight?" When Kendall didn't answer right away, she rambled on. "I don't have to or anything, I just… Actually, you're probably tired. I'll go back to my room." She started for the door.

"Wait," Kendall said. He pulled back the covers welcomingly.

Katie smiled gratefully and hit the lights before she approached him. The room was reverted once again to darkness, but for some reason Kendall wasn't as bothered. She hopped into bed beside him. Immediately he wrapped his arms around her. Maybe Logan was angry, but at least Katie seemed to understand. His sister always understood.

She nestled close beside him, her head tucked under his chin. Kendall let out a breath and shut his eyes, comfortable for the first time.

"Say something," she whispered.

They used to do this, when they were young. Sometimes Katie's nightlight did little to ease her fears, so she'd sneak into her brother's room late at night where he could protect her.

"Like what?"

"Say you won't leave me again."

"I won't," he assured.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

They were quiet then; the only sounds were his heavy heartbeat and her gentle breathing. Katie's body was warm beside his, and it made him glad that he could feel it. Mrs. Knight peered into the room again, as predicted. She lingered a while longer when she noticed her daughter, but Kendall shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He didn't see the look on his mom's face when her footsteps faded down the hall several minutes later.

He was about to doze off when Katie's whispers snapped him back to reality. "Can you sing to me?" she asked. "Like you'd do when I was little?"

"Like I did a couple weeks ago?" he teased.

"Kendall."

He complied anyway, a small, genuine smirk curving the corners of his lips. The lullaby he recited was the same one he'd sang since he was her age. Halfway through the song his hushed voice cracked, and he ended up humming the remaining lyrics. It didn't matter, though, because Katie had already fallen asleep. He followed shortly after.


	29. Everyone's Fine

**A/N: Okay. You had to have seen this chapter coming. But don't worry. Things have to get worse before they can get better, right? There are three more chapters left after this one, and I'm certain the next one will be really long, and the following two will be relatively short.  
Please make me happy by reviewing. I totally need some motivation to get the last chapters done!**

**Warnings: Intense-ness, angst, mentions of blood, and psychological... craziness. Yeah. I really had no idea I was capable of writing this.**

* * *

Chapter 29  
Everyone's Fine

Kendall awoke with a racing heart and a body drenched in sweat. He immediately stretched out an arm to locate his sister, found no one, then flung the covers off his body. Tossing his legs over the side of the bed, Kendall acknowledged Carlos asleep on the floor with a pillow under his helmet-clad head and a thin blanket wrapped around him. But there wasn't time for that. Kendall bolted out of the room.

James James James. The name pounded into his mind repeatedly, relentlessly, maddeningly, as it had so often before. Kendall skidded into the hall and rushed to his friend's door. Breathing hard, he burst in and found James soundly asleep, nearly buried under a tangle of sheets. Kendall wasted no time gliding to the bed and yanking the covers off James's body.

James stirred slightly, mumbling something unintelligible.

Kendall wadded fistfuls of James's shirt, shaking him and pulling him and desperately trying to get him to open his eyes. Kendall needed to see the liveliness in those hazel irises, needed to see for himself that they could stare back at him.

"What…?" James mumbled tiredly as he finally snapped awake. His expression morphed into one of surprise and utter confusion as he comprehended Kendall's hands gripping him. "Kendall? What's going on?"

Kendall couldn't hear him. The cracking gunshots echoing in his ears were just beginning to fade away to muted pops. Panting, Kendall dropped to his knees, nearly causing James to be pulled onto the floor.

The taller boy regained his balance and pushed himself upright on the edge of the mattress. He placed his hands on Kendall's, coaxing the blond to remove them. But Kendall was determined to hang on. He wouldn't let go. Not yet.

"What's going on?" repeated James, sounding frightened. "Kendall, talk to me."

The words broke through the barrier of nightmarish sounds lingering in Kendall's mind. Trembling, and with a thudding heart, he stammered out a response. "Y-You're dead."

Kendall wondered at which point concern became fright, or if the words were in fact synonymous. James displayed a mixture of both, which made Kendall hate himself for not having enough willpower to control his thoughtless actions.

"I'm not," said James, gently. "I'm right here."

"You were dead."

"But I'm not."

"James…"

"Look at me, Kendall. I'm right here. I'm okay." He grinned as though to prove it; a big, toothy smile, genuinely assuring.

Finally feeling his heartbeat calm, Kendall relented, managing a reluctant nod as he released his friend. He realized he'd been gripping James's t-shirt so tightly that a red ring had formed around the back and sides of James's neck due to the collar digging into the flesh. Sighing a breath of relief, Kendall fell back, his bottom hitting the carpet with a small thud. He rubbed at his face, still feeling nothing beneath his fingers.

"Kendall, ah, maybe you want to, you know, give that therapist a call?" James suggested, cautiously. He straightened his shirt. "Your mom made me, Carlos and Logan promise to go, so we can come with you, if you want."

Kendall shook his head.

James frowned. "She's going to drag you in there eventually. If not today, probably tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know," muttered Kendall. He slowly climbed to his feet and sat down beside his friend. "I told Mom I'd go when I was ready to talk."

James dropped his gaze to the floor. "Oh."

"I mean, it's not like I can't talk about it or something," Kendall said, quickly. "I can. It doesn't bother me." He wasn't sure if he was lying or not. "Therapy just seems pointless. What happened wasn't that big of a deal."

James turned to face him, mouth falling open. "What do you mean, not that big of a deal?" His voice lowered. "How could you say that?"

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

Running footsteps ended their conversation. Carlos sprinted into the bedroom, a blanket over his shoulders, something shining in his eyes. "Where _were_ you?" he demanded, anger directed at Kendall.

Said boy shrugged, confused.

"You _said_ you'd be there when I woke up. You promised you wouldn't leave, remember? You can't just… You're supposed to…" He blushed furiously when the words finally died on his tongue. Scowling, Carlos angrily cast his blanket to the floor, then stormed off down the hall, grumbling something under his breath.

Kendall and James remained in slightly awkward silence for nearly a full minute as Kendall stared at the empty doorway where Carlos had stood. Then he cleared his throat. "I think Carlos slept in my room last night."

"Your mom did too, actually. I heard her up at midnight and saw her bringing a blanket and pillow into your room. She must have woken up before you."

Kendall pushed a hand through his hair, thinking. His brain began to present every unsettling thought, starting with three 2J residents not wanting to leave his side and ending with the fact that no one seemed to be on the path to normal. The logic side of Kendall reminded him of how he _should_ feel, but the emotional part seemed to be broken. He yearned for guilt to weigh him down, for grief to clench his insides, for fear to flood his senses. It was better than nothing.

James clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on." He rose to his feet and started towards the door. "You should probably change your bandages, anyway."

Kendall unconsciously placed his gauze-wrapped hand over the gash on his stomach. He'd forgotten the injuries were there.

* * *

By lunchtime, Kendall was fairly certain his mom and sister were going to suffocate him.

He'd been squished between them on the orange couch for half an hour. They didn't speak much, just clung to him like he'd disappear (or run away) if they didn't. Kendall did stick to his promise of watching TV again with Carlos, whose attention was focused more on Kendall than the screen. James seemed on edge, eyes constantly shifting from person to person, and Logan was alone at the kitchen table, poking at the skin of a bright red apple with his fingernail. Kendall tried to ignore the guys' stares, tried to ignore Logan's isolation, tried to pretend everything was okay. He owed them that much, right?

The program hit a commercial, and Mrs. Knight asked Katie if she was planning on getting dressed for the day. Kendall's sister still donned her pajamas.

"I didn't have a clean pair of jeans in my closet," Katie replied, shrugging.

Mrs. Knight tossed her head back and groaned. "Ugh, that's right. I haven't done laundry all week."

And so, after collecting all the dirty clothes in the apartment, kissing the head of each member of Big Time Rush, making sure the door was locked, and double-checking that each boy's cell phone speed dial listed Mrs. Knight as caller number one, the fretting mother regretfully left the guys alone and recruited Katie to help her with the laundry.

Kendall could clearly see the pain on Mrs. Knight's tired face as she exited 2J; how reluctant she was to leave her son without his mother. Single moms had to make sacrifices, and though Mrs. Knight had made plenty of those in her life, Kendall knew it would never get easier.

The guys were silent, as they'd been all morning. In the past, there was never a dull moment in the apartment. Why wasn't this day _normal_? Everyone was here, everyone was okay. Why couldn't they at least make an effort to seem like themselves?

Maybe they couldn't. But Kendall could. After all, it was his job. His duty. He stood from the couch, and immediately all eyes were on him. "I'm gonna get a snack," he declared, then walked to the kitchen. He wasn't really hungry, but at least making a sandwich would occupy himself. "Want me to grab you guys something?"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" snapped Logan. "Any chance to treat us like we're five."

Kendall froze. Like the flip of a switch, the air was suddenly heavy with tension. Every other noise in the room seemed to fade out, leaving only the sound of his heart thudding in his ears. Slowly he turned, facing his friend, who'd shot out of his chair so quickly that it'd toppled over behind him.

Logan's eyes were like burning embers, and an uncharacteristic look of contempt was etched across his face. It was as though Logan had been waiting for them to be alone, waiting for his chance to release the unsettling thoughts building in his mind. He'd kept them inside far too long, and they were dying to break out.

Bracing himself for a vicious argument, Kendall swallowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Why?" Logan gritted out. He breathed in short, quick bursts of air. "Why would you do it?"

Kendall knew exactly what he was talking about. He looked towards James and Carlos, wide-eyed and petrified on the couch, then back to his seething friend. He began slowly. "I did it because I would do anything to protect you guys—"

"No!" Logan tossed his hands into the air, red-faced. "No, you shouldn't… You shouldn't have done that! I mean, why—? It doesn't make… I-I can't… I can't even…"

Kendall's logic told him to go comfort Logan; the smaller boy squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, shoulders quivering. Kendall always strived to make amends in the past. He searched for his heart, hoping it would provide him with some momentary compassion. There were feelings pumping, though not the kinds of emotions he wished for. The sensations were simmering, heavy and malicious. His hands twitched with a desire to be clenched, but Kendall managed to fight away the urge for now.

Instead, he took cautious steps forward as he spoke, hoping gentle, sincere words would get through to Logan. It was what Normal Kendall would do, and he _was_ normal. For their sake, he was. "Listen to me, Logan. Listen."

Logan wouldn't look at him.

"I would never risk one of you guys getting hurt. Never. And those men were threatening to do just that if I didn't go with them."

"B-But…"

"But nothing." Kendall pressed on, inching closer, voice soft and controlled. "Don't think for one second that you didn't deserve it. A long time ago I promised myself I would protect my friends no matter what. I'm not going to start breaking promises now." He reached out a hand, intending to place it on his friend's shoulder.

Logan growled and smacked Kendall's arm. He angrily twirled away from the blond, screaming with a voice so strident that it bounced off the apartment walls. "Maybe I don't want you to protect me!"

"Logan—" Kendall tried to say.

"Shut _up_! I don't want you risking your life for me, okay? If you're going to die trying to save me, then I don't want saving!" There was so much hurt clouding Logan's eyes that Kendall figured if he wasn't so numb on the inside he would have felt his heart break.

"I know you're alive, but we didn't think so!" shouted Logan. "We watched you get dragged off by some guy with a _gun_! You were screaming and begging him to shoot you! What do you think we assumed happened to you, huh?"

Kendall was desperate. "Logan, please—"

"_Shut up, Kendall, shut up_!"

Carlos began to wail.

"I already thought we'd lost you once! I found your note, you know. Just a stupid piece of paper with a flimsy apology that was supposed to make everything okay. Is that what you thought? That once we saw your note everything would be alright and no one would bother to look for you? Huh?" He jabbed an accusatory finger at Kendall's chest, spiteful, pained eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "You could have found a way out, but you didn't! We _stole your mom's car_! We drove through the entire state on 'maybe's and 'what if's! Have you ever spent twelve hours in a car with _them_?" The finger shifted to James and Carlos.

Kendall was rendered speechless as he listened to Logan's venomous tirade. His body tingled as his numbness slowly began to trickle away. Heat flushed his skin, all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He bit the inside of his cheek to distract the furious words that begged to explode from his mouth. He knew these feelings. It was the same way he'd felt when he looked at Chris.

_Chris_.

Why couldn't Chris just leave him _alone_?

Then Logan was gasping through his bitter words; sobs of scorn, sobs disdain. His hands finally fell to his sides, but his fists shook and were tightly balled; the anger hadn't diminished. "And I was s-so scared, Kendall, I was so scared that even if we did find you, y-you wouldn't want to come back. Because we didn't know what had really happened. How could we have?" He swiped a hand over his eyes, then clenched his teeth together. "But then we _did _find you. We finally found you after everything we went through, and I was so glad that you were okay but I _hated_ you. I hated you so much for leaving us, and for what you put yourself through. And for _what_? For us?" His voice cracked. "For _us_, Kendall?"

Kendall shifted uncomfortably where he stood, finding it progressively difficult to resist lashing out. How could Logan be Kendall's family, but Kendall not be Logan's? Logan should understand. Family always understood. Logan had been told of Kendall's reasons for leaving, so how could he not _get it_?

Maybe Logan didn't want to understand.

The thought made Kendall shudder with disgust. At least Chris had wanted to know. The man had practically begged Kendall to tell him why Kendall agreed to be a hostage. Chris may not have understood why the guys were considered family, but at least he was aware of their importance to Kendall.

Logan continued, still keeping a large distance between himself and Kendall. "Then suddenly you were gone again, and we had no idea where you were or if you were even alive. I had to lie to Carlos, tell him everything would be okay. I saw your mom sobbing and your sister crying and asking for her big brother, but he wasn't there! You _weren't there_, Kendall!"

He broke off sobbing—harsh, loud sounds that wracked his whole body. Kendall waited with limited patience, knowing Logan wasn't finished with his outburst.

"And how do you think we felt," Logan went on, barely getting the words out, "after w-we knew you put y-yourself through all this to protect us?" He shook his head back and forth. "It w-wasn't worth it, Kendall, it wasn't w-worth it…"

Kendall had witnessed rage several times during his captivity. He'd experienced it once himself, as he fought Chris in the apartment. The feelings in his chest were identical to the unforgettable ones he'd summoned several days ago. Logan was his target, and he didn't care. He wanted to hate Logan. Now that Chris was out of the picture, he needed to hate Logan.

The hate put words in Kendall's mouth, and his heart was powerless to intervene. "What do you want me to do, Logan?" Despite the intense flames continuing to manifest, his words were icy. "Apologize? Say I'm sorry for wanting to make sure my friends didn't die?"

"Shut your mouth, Kendall!" Logan screamed, sobs pushed away. "You think you're Superman or something? You're always trying to play hero. Is that what you thought? That you'd save the day?" He let out a loud, humorous laugh. "Well great job, buddy! You did it. You put us through days of wondering if our best friend cared about us, or was even _alive_, for that matter." He tapped his chin in mock thoughtfulness. "Oh, and don't forget being held hostage by three guys with guns and watching one of those guys get shot by the police. And then there's the fact Carlos now has some sort of separation anxiety but is in denial about it and James went through a personality change, but you probably don't want me to go through that."

Kendall stomped forward, opening his mouth to defend himself, but Logan wouldn't let him. He held his ground. "I mean, at least no one walked through the halls of the Palm Woods—which are monitored by security cameras, by the way— and came into our _locked_ apartment to shoot us in our sleep. It's not like the place is filled with witnesses to hear the gunshot."

The sarcasm was Kendall's breaking point. He lunged forward, aiming to grab Logan by the collar, punch him, do _something _to shut him up, but the smaller boy stepped back at the last second, causing Kendall to grasp air. Panting in his failed attempts to stay level-headed, Kendall pointed his finger. "None of that stuff was my fault. I left to save your lives. I didn't ask you to follow me, Logan." Then, he shouted. "I didn't want you to come!"

"I didn't want you to leave!"

Kendall closed his mouth.

"Every cause has an effect, Kendall! It's simple science. You disappear, we find you. That's what family does."

His voice dropped an octave. "Well it was the wrong cause and effect, wasn't it?"

"Oh, what? It was supposed to be you leave and we survive? Is that it?"

"Yes, Logan, that's exactly it." Kendall suddenly felt the need to explain himself. "You can look at what I did from a hundred different standpoints, but I can save you the trouble of wondering and tell you right now that I did this because you, Carlos and James are some of the most important people in my life. You're my _family_, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat whether you like it or not, because I'd rather have you hate me for the rest of your life than have you dead."

His chest heaved up and down as he locked his narrowed eyes with Logan's. It was another staring match, only this time tears from Logan's unblinking eyes rolled down his flushed cheeks.

When Logan finally said something, his tone was low and hopeless. "Good. You got exactly what you wanted." Then, ending the confrontation, he turned and stalked stiffly towards the hall.

Kendall stared at his back, the fury flaring once again in his chest. It warmed him, and he wanted more. He wanted to grasp the feeling and never relinquish it. He wanted to feel the heat in his veins, the quake in his bones. The bandage on his injured hand was stained red; the wound had reopened, and he squeezed his fingers into a fist so he could feel the blood gush from the cut.

"Where are you going?" he growled at Logan. "Don't walk away from me."

"Leave me alone, Kendall!" Logan shouted over his shoulder. "I can't look at you right now."

Kendall started after him. "Come back here!"

"Go away!"

"Logan, I mean it!"

"_Leave me alone_!" From the hall, Logan's bedroom door slammed shut so hard that a picture on the wall shook and threatened to crash to the floor.

The tension still lingering in the room wanted to pull Kendall to the floor. The apartment was stock-still as Kendall stopped near the hallway entrance, catching his breath. His cut throbbed and stung, but it wasn't enough. He needed more feeling, more proof that he was alive. Hatred was the only thing that could crack the wall he'd subconsciously created as a defense mechanism, locking the other emotions out. It was his fuel, his drive, his drug. It would consume him, but what did it matter? If his family didn't want to understand his actions, then what was the point of trying to be normal?

Seeking another reason to submit to his darkest self, Kendall strode briskly to James and Carlos. Both boys were on their feet in front of the couch, Carlos looking horrified with his gaping mouth and teary eyes, and James appearing to be processing the blowup which had just occurred.

"Is that what you guys think, too?" Kendall demanded to know, voice raising with each sentence. "You think I was selfish for trying to do the right thing? You think you weren't worth it?"

James tried to speak, but no sound emerged. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and tried again after a pause. "Kendall, no. We…"

"You _what_?"

He sighed, eyes narrowed in sympathy. "Look, man, it's not that we're ungrateful." Each word was spoken with such gentleness that Kendall couldn't have tried to twist them into criticizing ones if he tried.

"You saved our lives," James continued, nearly whispering. "But… But you did go through a lot for us. You almost died for us." The tears in his eyes caught the light and revealed a shimmer identical to the wink of Chris's pistol. "It seems like you're always the one doing the saving. Maybe you could have talked to us, and we could've returned the favor for once."

Kendall laughed acidly. "Oh, well, that's fantastic, isn't it?" He tossed up his hands. "Okay, James, how about I tell the cops I don't want to press charges, get Chris released, and then let him have me again? Then _you guys_ can come save me, and everyone can be happy."

"Kendall, that isn't—"

"Why can't you guys just let this go!" An abrupt surge of sadness hit him hard, and he struggled to keep his hate from morphing into grief. "I know you thought I was dead. Big deal! I thought James was dead! I thought those other freaks had Carlos and Logan! You don't see me acting any different!"

James sneaked a wary glance at Carlos.

"It's in the past," Kendall said, firmly. "I'm fine. You're fine. Everyone's _fine_. Don't dwell on it anymore."

"We're _not_ fine," Carlos argued. Both Kendall and James turned to him, and Carlos shrunk back at the attention. He looked at his feet but spoke to Kendall, quietly, with no intentions of turning the dispute into a shouting match. "Sometimes it seems like pretending will make everything easier. But it doesn't. Because when you realize things _aren't _getting better, it makes life a whole lot harder." He sniffled. "You can't just forget about what happened."

Kendall couldn't have responded if he tried.

"What were you thinking when you left?" asked James, still retaining his tender, contempt-free demeanor. He was just trying to understand. "Did you ever think about what would happen if you made it home? Did you assume everyone would just look the other way and pretend this didn't happen? Yeah, Kendall, you saved our lives, but we didn't know that." James paused, swallowing. "When you walked out, you left wounds. And we haven't exactly had time to heal yet."

Kendall remained before them for nearly a minute, scrutinizing their every feature. How could they hate him for saving their lives? It wasn't like he'd died in the process. Yeah, he _could have_. But he didn't. So what did any of that matter now? It was history. Just a bad memory. Why couldn't they continue on with their lives? Why did they need time to heal? Heal from _what_? From him walking out the front door? That should have all healed once they realized why he'd done it!

Kendall gritted his teeth so hard they ached. With a roar of Logan's name, he spun away from James and Carlos and stomped across the living room to the hall. He slammed a fist into the closed door of Logan's bedroom, hearing the wood snap.

"Logan!" he bellowed, pounding forcefully. "Logan, open the door!"

"Go away!" a muffled voice shouted in response.

Kendall nearly choked on his own loathing. He wanted nothing more than to take the door down, as he had when he'd been trapped in the small closet. Balling his injured hand into a fist, he banged it against the door over and over again, feeling the gash throb pleasantly beneath the wet bandage. "Logan, I am _not_ kidding! _Open the door_!" He screamed so loud his throat ached.

"Kendall, stop it." It was James, standing behind him.

Kendall didn't hear him. "Logan! Logan, I swear I'll break it down unless you unlock it right now! _Logan_! Logan, open the _door_!"

He swung and landed a hard punch to the surface. Something in his hand cracked. Stepping back, the door suddenly burst open with Logan standing on the other side, two trails of tears steaming down his red face.

"Just leave!" Logan cried. "I have nothing to say to you! Get out of my room!"

Kendall pushed past him, ignoring James and Carlos who lurked in the doorway. "Why don't you make me, huh?" he sneered at Logan. "I was going to give my life for yours, and you don't even care? You didn't want me to?"

"No, I didn't." Logan approached Kendall for the first time and hovered just inches from his face. "I don't want you looking out for us like we're little kids. We could have handled whatever problem came our way, like we always do. As a team." He was crying again. "You loved us enough to risk getting yourself killed. Don't you think we'd do the same for you?"

As Kendall stared at him, Logan backed up, finally letting his tense shoulders sag. He shook his head disappointedly, then gestured weakly to the door. "Get out."

"No."

"I said, _get out_." He spat the words. "I don't want anything to do with you right now, Kendall. I just…" He met Kendall's dark eyes and whispered, "I hate you."

Kendall punched him.

"Hey!" cried James, as he and Carlos started forward.

Logan stumbled into the wall, a hand racing to cover his split lip. He held out his other arm, warning his two friends to not intercede. "Did you…?" Logan slowly straightened himself from the blow, facing Kendall with a look of incredulousness. "Did you just… hit me?"

Kendall turned his attention to the hand which had been used to strike Logan. He focused on the knuckle, pink and swollen, and realized it didn't hurt anymore. His heart was beating calmly, like he'd never been angry at all. It was gone, all gone, in the split second it had taken him to punch his friend.

"No," Kendall said.

"What?" Logan wiped the back of his hand over his bleeding lip. He narrowed his eyes confusedly as he chanced a cautious step forward. "What did you say?"

Kendall began to repeat himself, but stopped when something dark moved in his peripherals. He turned his head and saw nothing, but it had been there—a shadow. Just like the ones in Chris's eyes and across his face, just like the ones under the closet door. "Kendall," Logan panicked, snapping his fingers to catch the blond's attention. "Look at me."

Kendall slowly obeyed, feeling as though there were a hundred eyes on him.

The shorter boy spoke as though he were afraid of the answer. "Did you say no?"

Kendall didn't respond.

Letting out a sob of despair, Logan gripped his hair with both hands. "Oh, man, Kendall, you need help."

Another shadow darted into Kendall's vision. He whipped his head, trying to follow the ominous mass. When he realized his effort was in vain, he turned back to Logan. "What's wrong with you? Why are you crying?"

"Kendall, you need help," Logan wailed.

Bewildered, Kendall stiffened as Logan seized him by the shoulders, then gripped his shirt in a desperate attempt to keep Kendall focused. "I didn't mean to say I hated you," he murmured around his tears. "I swear I didn't mean to. Kendall, I'm sorry."

"Okay."

Logan refused to release his tight hold. Kendall was hardly aware; Logan, Carlos or James could have been speaking to him, but he didn't hear it. Fleeting shadows continued to dart around the edges of his vision. But it couldn't be Chris. It couldn't be. Chris was in jail, right?

Suddenly drained and exhausted, Kendall shut his eyes. Sweat rolled down every inch of his skin. In the dark world around him, screams and gunshots rang ceaselessly.

When his eyes opened and met Logan's, the noises were still there.


	30. Poison

**A/N: So this chapter was totally like 8k words long until I edited it. Now it's about 4.8k. So. Yeah. There are two chapters left after this one! Aren't you excited! Thanks so much for reviewing and reading, you guys. Ignore any errors, because I've only proof-read this twice.**

**Warnings: Blood, minor self-harm, disturbing imagery.**

* * *

Chapter 30  
Poison

Kendall had a therapy appointment the next day, but attending was out of the question.

He couldn't get out of bed.

With a moan he attempted to lift his heavy head from his pillow. His hair was matted wetly to his scalp with sweat, all warm and sticky. As exhausted as he felt, his sleep had been fitful and restless. He couldn't decide if he wanted his blankets off or on, because hot flashes and cold chills took turns battering his body.

"Honey, I promise you don't have a fever," Mrs. Knight said, plucking the thermometer out from under his tongue. She read the digital display, then held it out as proof. "See? Ninety-eight point six."

He sighed and reached for the sheets that laid in a tangle at the foot of the bed. Shivering, he yanked them up to his chin.

Mrs. Knight frowned and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead.

"I don't feel good," he murmured.

"You're probably just tired," she replied, seating herself on the edge of the mattress. Then she paused, pondering. "Do you want me to call the doctor?"

"No," Kendall quickly answered. If Mrs. Knight's thermometer showed he wasn't sick, then the doctor's thermometer probably wouldn't read a temperature either. And if that happened, he'd be thrown into therapy for sure. There was no way he was going to confess his innermost thoughts to a stranger. What could a stranger do to help, anyway? Besides, therapy was for weak people who couldn't handle their own problems. And Kendall Knight refused to fall under that category of individuals. He was perfectly capable of fixing himself.

"Can I have some medicine?" he asked his mom, hoping for an aspirin.

"Do you have a headache?"

"Yeah."

She sifted her fingers lightly through his hair. Whether it was because of love or pity, Kendall wasn't sure. "Logan, will you get him something?"

Kendall looked to the doorway, forgetting that Logan was leaning against it. Though Logan had yet to step into the bedroom, he'd been acting like Mrs. Knight's shadow all morning as she cared for Kendall.

_Shadow_.

The shadows Kendall saw yesterday were still there, hanging in his peripherals. They vanished when he attempted to look at them directly. Tired of having to whip his head side to side in hopes of catching a glimpse of the dark, teasing shapes, he gave up and accepted that they lingered on the edge of his vision. He only hoped they would remain docile and harmless.

Logan abandoned his post to hopefully fetch Kendall a pill to ease his nonexistent fever. Mrs. Knight continued stroking Kendall's hair in silence. It was a nice, comforting touch that reminded him of Chris doing the same thing back at the warehouse. Kendall closed his eyes and relaxed. His entire body was heavy and weak, and much-needed sleep was just threatening to take him when Logan returned with a bottle and spoon in his hands.

Kendall repressed a moan and pushed himself upright, back nestled against his pillows. Logan finally entered the room to hand Mrs. Knight the medicine—low dose children's stuff that Mrs. Knight could still manage to pour down Katie's throat if needed.

"If you're not actually sick, you shouldn't take a heavy dose of ibuprofen or acetaminophen," Logan explained as Mrs. Knight measured the orange liquid onto the spoon.

"I am sick," Kendall argued.

"No, you're not. You're just tired."

Kendall frowned. He wrinkled his nose as his mother shoved the spoon in his face and forced him to open wide. Grimacing, Kendall swallowed a mouthful of the bitter drug.

"Hey," said Logan, "be grateful I got you the berry kind instead of grape. The grape tastes like chalk."

"Chalk's better than puke," muttered Kendall, wiping his mouth. He dropped back onto the bed, fatigued from just having to sit up, and snuggled deeper into his covers.

"Maybe you should try to take a nap," suggested Mrs. Knight, touching his hair again. "I'll come check on you in an hour."

Kendall tried to mumble a response, but he was already succumbing to unconsciousness.

* * *

_Bang, bang, bang._

_Kendall couldn't tell if the noise was a chorus of gunshots or a drum line being hammered by mighty fists. The sound was rhythmic and in synch with his pulse, like a morbid song composed by his heavy heartbeat. It boomed, echoed, rattled deeply in his chest._

_Bang, bang, bang._

_A flash of red lit the dark plane surrounding him, bright and quick like lightning. Kendall tried to move. He was searching for something, hopelessly, and had no idea where to begin his endeavor. Every step was slow and sluggish in spite of his brain ordering him to move._

_Bang bang bang._

_The noise intensified. Flash flash flash of red, blinding, disorienting. He raised his hands to shield his face from things he couldn't see, but knew were there all the same._

_Bang bang bang._

_Desperate screams momentarily masked the constant sound._

_Bangbangbang._

_A sense of urgency hit him hard. Whimpering, gasping, frantic in fear, he moved toward the shrill shrieks. He had to fix this, had to make everything alright. Millions of eyes on him, waiting for him to fail. More flashes of blood-red light, pounding with his relentless heart._

_Bangbangbang._

_The next scream sounded right beside him, so close that he felt the warm breath on his ear. Kendall whipped around, trying to help, trying to fight, but saw no one._

_Bangbangbang._

_He screamed._

* * *

"Stop it!" cried Kendall, thrashing his legs. He kicked the blankets onto the floor and bolted upright, body drenched in hot sweat. A shadow hovered at the foot of his bed, twisting and morphing its body into gruesome, threatening shapes. Kendall yelped and scrubbed his hands across his face. When he opened his eyes, the figure was gone.

Kendall remained as still as he could manage, though he was shuddering. His eyes scanned every inch of the room in search of more lurking shadows. His heart beat so frantically in his chest that he had to gasp to catch his breath. And the worst part?

He kind of liked it.

As he sat on his bed, sheets moist from his own perspiration, the numbness slowly trickled back in. He brushed a finger over a rope burn spanning around his wrist and wished it caused discomfort. The mark had healed to a light pink color, more visible to Kendall than anyone because he knew it was there. A couple dark shapes intruded the far corners of his vision, but he let them be for now.

A light knock on the door made Kendall jump.

James pushed the door open just a crack, noticed Kendall and the mess in the room, then stepped inside. "Hey, uh, is everything alright?" he asked cautiously. His concerned gaze fell to the heap of blankets on the floor.

Kendall nodded shakily. A line of sweat dripped down the side of his face.

"Thought I heard you saying something in here," James explained. "Anyway… I'll, um, let you get back to sleep."

"No," Kendall said, a little too quickly. James froze, and Kendall cleared his throat. "I mean, you can stay, if you want."

Accepting the offer, James eased the bedroom door shut, then crossed the room and wheeled the chair from Kendall's desk over to the side of the bed. He kicked at the pile of blankets with his foot to clear a path.

A sudden movement from the shadows made Kendall flinch. He twisted his head to the side, but the shadow disappeared as soon as he did so.

James knitted his brow and followed the gaze. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Kendall dismissed. He pulled his knees to his chest and pressed his back against the damp pillows. "So… What are the guys up to?"

James once again shot a wary look towards the door before he finally answered. "Just killing time, I guess. Logan's on Carlos duty. They're playing Go Fish with Katie."

"Carlos duty?"

"Oh, yeah, that's what we've been calling it. We've noticed Carlos doesn't like being alone, so we take turns keeping him occupied."

A surge of anger made Kendall twitch. He remembered Logan's words from the explosion yesterday and wondered if Kendall himself truly was to blame for Carlos's unwillingness to be independent. The more Kendall thought about it, the more he believed Logan was right.

"Hey, Kendall?" James rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward in the chair. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," he answered truthfully. Something was draining his body of energy, whether it was the shadows, the anger, the fear, the nightmares, or the constant thought of his friends hating him. Whatever the reason, it was weakening him both inside and out.

The two were quiet for a moment. Kendall ignored a movement in his peripherals, but the knowledge that the shadows were there watching him made more perspiration bead his skin.

James spoke up softly. "Carlos needs to see a therapist, Kendall." When Kendall said nothing, he continued. "When I woke up I found him sleeping on my floor. And after what happened yesterday, I think Logan needs some therapy too. I know it wouldn't hurt me to go, either. It's just…" He paused and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "I keep thinking something bad is going to happen. Every time I walk past the front door I'm scared someone's going to bust it down. And every time I walk past your bedroom I'm scared you're not going to be in it."

Kendall raised his eyebrows. He wasn't surprised at James's feelings, just surprised that his friend had admitted them. This wasn't James. This wasn't how James usually talked.

Maybe he wasn't real.

How was Kendall supposed to know what was real and what was merely a disturbing trick of his imagination? A few days ago he'd believed with his whole heart that James was dead. A few days ago he thought Carlos and Logan were prisoners of Rodney and Jace. A few days ago he thought he didn't have a reason to return home. What Kendall comprehended as reality changed so frequently it had become nearly impossible to differentiate fact from fiction.

What if this all was just another nightmare? Another trick? People could _feel _in real life, right? Checking to make sure James wasn't watching, Kendall pressed two fingers against the bandage beneath his shirt. It didn't hurt.

Someone screamed. The shadows dispersed in fear.

"James!" shrieked Kendall. He lunged to the side, gripping his friend's arm. "What's happening, what's happening? The guys! Where are the guys?"

"Whoa, whoa, hey!" James leapt to his feet. He leaned over Kendall, his large hands grasping the blond's shoulders. "Kendall, calm down. What's the matter?"

"Didn't you hear that?" Kendall cried. "Didn't you hear him?"

"What? Hear who?"

"It was him!"

"_Who_?"

Kendall swallowed. "I want my mom."

"What are you—"

"James, go get Mom."

The taller boy stared at him for a moment, something shining in his eyes. Then he nodded, and without question left the room to fetch Mrs. Knight.

Kendall fell back onto the bed, biting back disdainful sobs. Chris was perhaps in jail, but Kendall still belonged to him. Chris had poisoned him, and the disease was spreading through his body like wildfire. It was a heavy weight inside his chest; a thick ball of hate and fear, the only two things not affected by the numbness. He'd been doomed from the start. Kendall had hated the man as soon as he'd opened the envelope in his room on that otherwise normal night. Everything he'd gone through for his friends added on to the mass in his chest, helped distribute the poison to his most vital parts, drained his body.

And now he _craved _it.

He was sick of being numb and empty. He wanted more feeling, more of the poison.

But he shouldn't, right? No normal person wanted to be a monster.

Kendall remembered how _good_ it'd felt to look down and see his captor's unconscious body in the apartment, and to know he was the one who'd made Chris bleed. But the most frightening thought pertained to yesterday when, in a brief second before some sympathetic part of his mind had tried to convince him that no, there was no way he'd just punched Logan, his best friend, Kendall had wanted to strike Logan again and feel his friend's blood on his fingers.

Sleep whispered a lullaby in his ear, begging to pull him in. Kendall's eyelids fluttered shut, wanting to return to a nightmare. He was nearly there when his mother hurried into the room and rushed to his side, so many emotions etched across her face.

Kendall spoke before she had a chance to even ask what was wrong. "Mom, I didn't know what to do," he said, a small whine evident in his voice. "I didn't know what to do."

She crawled onto the bed beside him, slipping her comforting arms around him. Kendall leaned his head against her chest and listened to her heart beat.

"What do you mean, sweetie?" she asked, smoothing his disheveled hair.

"When I was with them," explained Kendall. "When I was with _him_. I didn't… I didn't know what to do." His voice started to crack. "I wanted to stay with him, Mom. I wanted to stay with him. How could I have wanted that? No matter what, how could I have thought…?"

The poison kept pumping through his veins as the horrific memories came flooding back. It was his incentive to keep talking. "I thought Chris had Carlos and Logan. I thought he'd bring them to me." He clutched her shirt. "But that was so stupid, right? Mom, was that stupid?"

She tried to shush him gently as he became more worked up, but Kendall wouldn't have it. "I should have done something sooner, but I didn't… I-I didn't know. I didn't know."

"You're right," Mrs. Knight whispered. "You didn't know. You had no idea what was going to happen. You did everything right, Kendall."

"No I didn't!" he cried. He was aware of his wet face, but wasn't sure if it was from sweat or tears.

Mrs. Knight held him tighter.

"I messed everything up. Everything, all of this. This is all my fault, because I let _him_ do this to me. Logan was right. But I just wanted… I just wanted them to be safe, that's all." He buried his face somewhere against her shoulder because the logic part of his brain convinced him it would help. Logic lied a lot.

"I should have went to the police," he said, voice muffled by the fabric of her shirt. "It was dumb to think _he_ was watching me. He wasn't. How could he have been? I should have called the police, Mom. But—but you say we're family, right? Me and the guys, we're family. I couldn't risk them getting hurt. I _couldn't_. I just… I didn't know."

Tiredness descend upon him like a wave. Kendall was slightly aware of Mrs. Knight responding to his outburst with soothing, practical words. They were words he knew he should listen to, but words he didn't want to hear. Ignoring her altogether, he rolled over, mumbling something about getting back to sleep, and squeezed his eyes shut. He prayed for another nightmare.

The mattress moved as Mrs. Knight stood, and soon the blankets he'd kicked to the floor were being draped over his trembling body one by one. Then fingers were in his hair, and he drifted off.

* * *

_Voices whispered to him. Lips touched his ear. Kendall whipped around, swinging his fist as he did so. When he struck air he froze, listening._

_Silence._

_His blood boiled. He hated the silence, hated the dark. The space around him was inky black and thick with tension. Something was there, waiting for him to move, waiting for him to drop his guard._

_Someone screamed. Then, a gunshot._

_A rough hand clamped around his forearm and tugged. A red glow emanated from somewhere above, bathing the world in a warning. Kendall tried to cry out, but his voice refused to function in his dry throat. He was tugged along as the light began to flash and screams continued echoing from behind him in the dark._

_The hand moved to his middle back and shoved him. Kendall stumbled and fought to regain his balance, as the fright he felt had reduced his bones to jelly. He picked himself up and readied a fist to fight, but was stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the object before him._

_It was a solitary chair in an otherwise large, empty room. Ropes coiled around the legs, winding their way up to the seat where a winking gun sat invitingly._

_Kendall turned, trying to get away. Before he had a chance to even take one step, he bumped chests with a man. A normal looking man to anyone else, but Kendall could see the steel in his eyes, the shadows across his face._

_Kendall dashed toward the chair as more screams rang out._

* * *

"Kendall, wake up."

A gasp flew out of his mouth and a fist automatically thrust up to fight off danger. Kendall quickly rolled over, his shirt clinging wetly to his skin, and saw Logan sitting on the chair next to the bed. Hanging above his head was a thick, dark blob, descending down like a spider on a web. Kendall yelped and rubbed furiously across his eyes, willing the shape to go away. Blinking rapidly, he watched as it retreated to the corners of his vision and stayed there.

Logan turned in his seat and followed Kendall's gaze. When he saw nothing, he faced his friend with a confused expression. "Nightmare?"

Kendall didn't respond. His chest heaved with the force of his breaths. The weight of his insides seemed to sink him into the mattress; soon he'd be swallowed whole. His muscles were rubbery and weak, void of all energy. He just wanted to sleep.

"Here." Logan held out a box of tissues. Kendall accepted them hesitantly, then wiped one across his forehead and neck. He balled it in his fist and tossed it near the pile of blankets at the foot of the bed.

Logan cleared his throat. "Your mom is on the phone trying to find you a therapist. Since you didn't make it to Dr. Connell's this morning, she filled her schedule with other patients."

Kendall shivered in spite of his weary body stinging with heat. "Logan, go away," he murmured tiredly, laying back down into the sweat-soaked pillows. He pushed a hand through his sticky hair and tried to close his eyes. Somewhere around him he heard a muffled scream, but he did his best to ignore it, aside from his body's involuntary twitch of surprise.

"Mrs. Knight also said I'm supposed to keep an eye on you while she makes phone calls. Oh, also, you _will_ be going, and I have been granted permission to sedate you and drag your unconscious body to the doctor's if need be."

"Logan, just—" Kendall snapped, facing his friend angrily. "I'm tired, okay? I wanna go back to sleep. Please." His eyelids were already threatening to shut.

A bullet whizzed by his ear. Kendall cried out, jumping to sit upright. When he peered over his shoulder he saw nothing but his bedroom wall.

"What?" Logan asked, placing a hand on Kendall's knee. "What is it?"

Kendall shrugged the touch away, shaking his head. "Nothing. It was… Nothing, it was nothing." He hoped Logan didn't notice him trembling.

Logan stared at him for a while, eyes narrowed as they scanned over every inch of Kendall's body. Kendall shifted uncomfortably at the scrutiny, hating that his friend was trying to find a flaw.

Finally Logan sighed. "Look, Kendall, about yesterday… I was thinking about it all last night, and…" He scratched at his head. "And I was wrong to say the things I did. I mean, the number one rule for handling any situation like this is not to blame the victim, and that was exactly what I did."

Kendall scoffed. "Not meaning to say something and not meaning what you say are two totally different things." As Logan fell quiet, Kendall reached for the wad of blankets. "I'm going back to sleep."

The shorter boy blinked. "Why are you so desperate to go to sleep? Look at yourself, Kendall. You're sweating and shaking, you keep looking over your shoulder; obviously you're having nightmares." His voice lowered. "Why are you so eager to get back to that?"

"Just go away," Kendall said, too exhausted to raise his voice in the way he wished.

"You're torturing yourself," Logan accused.

For some reason the comment made anger flare in Kendall's chest. His cheeks flushed red. "_I'm_ not doing anything. _He's_ doing it to me."

The moment the words left Kendall's mouth, everything changed.

A breath was on his ear, screams were coming from beyond the closed door, the sound of gunfire bounced off the walls. Fear engulfed his body, white hot and erratic. The fear, the hate—the _poison_—it was always there, festering, destroying him from the subconscious out. It was addictive; a small taste made him crave more.

This was an overdose.

The shadow looming at the foot of his bed expanded and billowed into a large, towering figure. The menacing mass inched forward, slowly, stalking its prey. It seemed to absorb all the light in the room and exude tension into the air. Kendall stared with wide eyes, waiting for it to vanish or hide in his peripherals like it had before.

Instead, it just grew bigger.

He cried out and reached for Logan's arm. "Logan! Logan, he's right there!" Kendall pointed furiously to the shadow, but Logan didn't seem to see it.

"Who is? What are you talking about?" he stood, tensing, but didn't pull out of Kendall's grip.

"Right there, right there!" Kendall shrieked. He yanked Logan closer, nearly making the shorter boy stumble, then pulled his legs to his chest so the shadow couldn't grab them.

"Hey, hey," said Logan. His eyes darted back and forth from the shadow to the boy cowering on the bed. "Kendall, there's no one there. It's just you and me, I promise."

Kendall was frozen, watching the figure before him. Thankfully it didn't appear to be advancing anymore; just expanding upward like a thick cloud of black smoke. Tears of fright sprang into his eyes, because he knew he couldn't fight this anymore.

He wasn't aware that Logan had one knee on the bed and was shaking his shoulders until said boy tapped him lightly on the cheek. "_Kendall_. Talk to me. What's the matter?"

There was concern and apprehension in Logan's eyes. No anger. No hate. His eyes were those of a friend who wanted to help.

"He wants me to be like him!" Kendall admitted with a sob. He could feel his heart hammer against his tonsils; it was so far up his throat he nearly gagged.

"What? Who?"

"He does!"

"…Chris?"

Kendall desperately clutched Logan's forearms, finding it difficult to breathe. He had so many things he wanted to say, so many things he had to get out. Maybe now Logan could understand.

The deal had been simple: if Kendall cooperated and submitted to his captors, then Logan, Carlos, and James would remain unharmed.

Kendall's friends were okay. Now he just needed to hold up on his end of the bargain.

"It's like I can't feel anything," Kendall wailed, swallowing down sobs. His gaze flicked nervously to the shadow, but it still remained stationary. It was waiting for him.

Kendall found the bandage on his arm and ripped it off painlessly. "This?" Ignoring Logan's gaping mouth, Kendall squeezed the wound, fingernails digging into the gash. The stitches sewing it together snapped, causing blood to gush down his arm and drip onto the sheets. "I can't feel it, Logan. I can't feel it at all."

Pulling himself from his shock, Logan snatched Kendall's hands and yanked them away from the bleeding wound. "Kendall, stop it." When Kendall reached for the cut again, Logan's voice lowered to nearly a threat. "_Stop_." But the firm tone was gone as soon as his next words were spoken. "Y-you're hurting yourself…"

"No I'm not! Don't you get it? I'm _not_!" Kendall's head was pounding at this point, every part of his brain begging him to do a different thing—cry, submit, fight, speak, stay quiet. His throat was so tight with emotion that his voice cracked on every other word. "Sometimes I get mad. Really, really mad, and it's all I can feel. And I _want_ to feel, so I _want_ to be angry. But I shouldn't, right? I shouldn't want to be mad." His bloody fingers wadded around the front of Logan's shirt. "And now I'm scared. Because he wants me to be like him, and he comes in here all the time and tries to get me, and, and… and…"

"What do you mean?" Logan asked gently, though the alarm was clear on his face. "What do you mean he tries to get you?"

"It's him, I know it is," Kendall babbled. "I see him—he's right there by my bed—and he wants me to be just like him. And… it's my fault, I think, somehow, it's my fault, and I don't… I don't know…"

Logan's voice was laced with hurt and concern. "Kendall…"

He couldn't bear to look at Logan anymore, so he turned his attention back to the shadow, knowing for certain it would still be there. Kendall was too far gone. He'd crossed a line he could never jump back from. And he shouldn't be bothered, because he knew the second he walked out the door that if he ever returned, life would never be the same.

But somehow, Big Time Rush had fortune on their side. Everything seemed to work out for the guys, no matter how challenging their tribulations became. Kendall had come home. James had survived. Carlos and Logan were okay. All those things were nothing short of miracles, and Kendall had been foolish enough to think he'd always have luck to fall back on—to help make things _normal_.

This time, though, the miracles had reached their limit. And he wasn't ready to deal with it.

Logan gritted his teeth as a surge of determination hit him. He seized Kendall by the shoulders and forced their eyes to meet. "Kendall, you're stronger than this." When Kendall dropped his gaze, Logan shook him vehemently. "Darn it, Kendall, look at me! You cannot let this guy beat you!"

"But he's winning," Kendall whimpered. Defeated, he hung his head.

Logan growled and smacked him across the face, hard enough to leave a mark. "Then fight back," he snapped. "If you can't do it for yourself, then do it for your family. That guy isn't here anymore, Kendall. He's in jail. You _beat him_. And if you've done it once, you can do it again."

Something warm streamed down Kendall's cheek. He wasn't in a fight. He'd already lost. "I j-just want it t-to stop," he murmured. "Logie, make it stop."

Logan immediately looped an arm around Kendall's shivering body. "Close your eyes," he instructed.

Kendall obeyed, his head falling against his friend's shoulder.

"You can't see him now, right? He's gone?"

"He's still there, I know he is."

"But you can't see him?"

"No."

"Good. Then keep your eyes closed." Logan sighed shakily, rubbing at his eyes. "I will make this better. We all want to help you, Kendall, but you have to let us. Can you do that?"

Kendall didn't answer. With his eyes shut, sleep crept up on him and pulled him into another painful dream.

* * *

_He was on the cold floor, writhing and twisting his body in a desperate attempt to escape. The man with the shadows on his face grinned, revealing pointed teeth. Bloody claws curled around his ankles and yanked. Kendall's fingernails scraped against the pavement as he was pulled backwards, shrieking for help._

_Why wouldn't anyone help him?_

_Bangbangbang._

_The noise was back, faster than ever. He pumped his legs, but to no avail. Suddenly there were arms wrapped around his torso. Hugging him. An embrace. The man wanted him to submit, wanted Kendall to feel comfort as he let the poison consume him._

_Bangbangbang._

_After several more ineffective attempts to free himself, Kendall ceased resisting. The darkness enveloped him._

* * *

Kendall screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

He was vaguely aware of being on his back. Someone straddled his waist, their hands pinning his flailing arms to the mattress. Another body restrained his legs. Kendall was desperate to thrash away from them, desperate to throw them off.

_Help me hold him down!_

_What's wrong with him?_

_Forget the therapist! Call nine-one-one!_

His eyes shot open wide, but all he could see were shadows churning on the ceiling. They beckoned to him. Whispered to him. Made the poison in his veins pump faster.

He kept screaming.


	31. Normal

**A/N: Ahh one more chapter left after this. I don't even know what to do with myself. Nor did I really know what to do with this chapter. I hope it isn't too... bland. I don't think it is, considering there was one point that made me feel like crying. Althought it may just be because I know this thing is coming to an end, and I've spent the last year of my life working on it. So I'll start my thank yous early to prevent the next author's note from being longer than the actual chapter. Honestly, I could not have gotten this far without all the support and encouragement you guys have given me. I've even made some pretty great friends along the way! So thank you, to everyone. It's always sad to bring a project to a close, but I do plan on publishing more in the future.  
Also, I considered going back and reuploading the chapters with their errors corrected, but I'm pretty sure the people subscribed to the story get email alerts, and I don't want to spam their inbox.**

**Warnings: Angst, and James being James. And yes, I think that deserves a warning.**

* * *

Chapter 31  
Normal

Kendall hissed as he relocated himself, pain shooting up his leg when a tender bruise was touched. The knife wound beneath the bandage on his arm had been sewn up after its reopening, but still felt as though it would split his flesh. It throbbed violently; so hard that Kendall wondered if the stitches would pop. His face was sore and swollen on one side—it hurt just to smile. Joints creaked when moved, muscles ached when flexed, and he was fairly certain a finger or two was broken from punching Logan's door the other day. He'd have to ask the doctor about an X-ray later.

And that wasn't even the worst part. He could handle a little pain. But the stupid room was too small, the bed was like a sheet of stone, the pillow was quite possibly stuffed with shredded newspaper, the walls were so white he had to squint, and one of the nurses, a lady named Joni, always seemed to be in a bad mood.

All in all, Kendall figured he was doing pretty well.

His body was whole again. Instead of his chest being a hollow shell, it brimmed with feelings. _Every _feeling. The poison hadn't been cleansed from his blood, but more emotions joined in and took the edge off the bitter resentment.

Still, the fact that his anger hadn't left frightened him. What if, somehow, the poison reemerged full-force?

Yesterday's events were a little hazy… He remembered strange dreams, gunshots, heartbeats, people holding him. The last recollection he had was of Logan, promising to make things better. It was strange how he could see himself in his friends. It was also kind of how this whole mess began. His friends wouldn't adopt any of his qualities if they didn't think highly of him. He wasn't going to let them down.

"Kendall?" The door to the room opened wide, revealing Dr. Connell. She was friendly and understanding, and the first person to make him smile in what felt like days. Kendall liked her. (Plus, she was _smoking hot_.) "Your family can come see you now."

A mixture of nerves and joy made his heart flutter. He thanked the therapist as she finally left his room, tried not to stare at her backside, and grinned when Mrs. Knight and Katie entered. When they saw his smile they returned it, though Kendall wasn't oblivious to the bags under their eyes and the shuffle in their steps.

His cheeks colored as they approached him, because he knew he'd acted like a total idiot. Dr. Connell had told him that accepting help wasn't a sign of weakness, but rather a show of strength. A true leader knew when assistance was needed, and that was what made him strong. And the weird thing was, Kendall believed her.

"Hey," he greeted weakly, skin stretching painfully as he lifted the corner of his lips. Katie beamed and hopped onto the bed beside him. Kendall scooted over to pull her into his lap. He'd forgotten that though she was his baby sister, she wasn't actually a baby anymore, and cringed at the weight pressing on his aching muscles. Nonetheless, he kissed her head and embraced her tightly.

Mrs. Knight found a seat on the edge of the bed, as close to her children as possible, and encompassed them all in a large hug. The family was quiet for a minute, aside from a few soft sniffles. Kendall clutched his sister and mother, closed his eyes, and felt his heartbeat regain a normal pace. Immersed in relief, the backs of his eyes began to sting. He fought the sensation off for now. There was no way he was going to cry in front of Katie.

When they finally pulled away, Mrs. Knight gingerly lifted his chin to look him in the eyes. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

Kendall blinked away the tears before he answered. "Kind of like I just played the most intense pick-up game ever. And lost."

Katie shifted a little, scared of harming him. Kendall pulled her back. "But don't worry," he said with a wink. "I can manage it."

She smirked and tugged at the front of his gown. "I thought you promised you wouldn't leave me again." She had that look in her big brown eyes, the one that could melt him in a second.

A pang of emotion hit him hard. "I didn't," he replied, throat tight.

"Yeah, well, you were cutting it close."

"Sorry, baby sister."

She stared at him for a moment, trying to decide if she should accept his apology. Kendall found himself holding his breath.

Finally she stuck out a finger and threatened him. "Just don't do it again."

A second kiss was placed on her head. Not wanting to pull away just yet, he murmured in her ear. "I love you, you know."

"Love you too." Katie put her arms around him. It hurt a little, but he didn't say anything. "You'll get better, right?"

"Of course."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he confirmed.

Mrs. Knight placed a hand on his wrist. "You had us pretty worried for a while," she told him. "But Dr. Connell said you seem to be doing better."

He knew she was trying to get him to spill some more information regarding his current state of mind, so he relented and blushingly admitted he hadn't seen a shadow since he'd woke.

The three didn't say much after that. They merely sat in silence, enjoying each other's company. Kendall had forgotten that his body could warm from emotions other than hate and fury. It was a comfortable feeling, one he related to the times when it was just him, his mom and sister snuggled on the couch with steaming mugs of hot chocolate as a Minnesotan blizzard raged outside. He wasn't sure why the sudden thought came to him. Maybe because he longed for those stress-free moments where everything was right in the world.

Mrs. Knight was the one to speak up after several long minutes of quietness. "The guys said they wanted to talk to you alone." She slowly rose to her feet, clearly reluctant to leave her son again. "I guess we've kept them waiting long enough."

Katie whined as her mother helped her off Kendall's lap. "I don't want to leave yet."

Kendall's heart ached.

"We'll be back," Mrs. Knight assured, to both her daughter and son. "We'll be right outside."

A few more hugs and kisses were exchanged before they left. Katie stopped at the door, turned, and waved at her brother. Kendall returned the gesture with a wiggle of his fingers.

The moment they were gone from sight, he heaved a sigh and tossed his head back. It was a mistake. Pain shot through his stiff neck at the sudden movement. Groaning under his breath, he rubbed a hand over the distressed area. He was still a little tired, and frankly, the thought of seeing the guys sent ripples of trepidation to his stomach. He wasn't sure what to expect.

The next time he glanced up, however, he saw them. Carlos was out front, Logan and James hanging back. They huddled hesitantly in the doorway, faces unsure and a little grim.

Kendall gawked, any good spirits dropping when he saw how worn they appeared. Had they even slept at all this week? Guilt churned in his stomach. He'd been so delusional, too focused on trying to make things normal that he'd failed to acknowledge his friends' pain. They were dressed in the same clothes as the day before, shirts unbuttoned and wrinkled, jeans creased and, in Carlos's case, streaked orange from Cheese Puff crumbs. Logan's hair was flat due to lack of gel, Carlos sported a good case of helmet-hair, and James's was frizzed out and wavy.

They almost looked worse than Kendall.

But he couldn't take his eyes off them. He wanted to apologize, but then realized it was pointless. Nothing he said could make things alright. If they didn't forgive him, he had only himself to blame.

Carlos fidgeted anxiously, then started towards Kendall. James held him back by wordlessly tugging on his hood.

"You can come in, you know," Kendall offered weakly, trying to smile.

No one moved.

He swallowed nervously. "Don't worry. I'm not going to freak out or anything."

It was all the convincing Carlos needed. His first few steps into the room were slow and cautious, like he was approaching a wild animal. He finally stopped about halfway between the door and the bed. His mouth opened, then closed again, unsure of what to say.

Kendall wanted to speak too, but was at a loss for words. His eyes misted over at his friend's wary approach. Were they scared of him? He was about to force his vocal cords to work when Carlos suddenly decided Kendall was harmless and took three long strides to close the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around Kendall's middle, successfully pulling him into a fierce hug. Kendall involuntarily stiffened and suppressed a moan of distress from flying out of his mouth. The Latino unintentionally disturbed the wound on Kendall's abdomen, but Kendall didn't want to protest in fear of upsetting his friend. Biting the inside of his cheek to take focus off the pain, he brought up an arm to rub Carlos's quivering back.

Carlos finally pulled away, his teary eyes absorbing Kendall's every feature. "A-Are…," he tried to say. His voice died in his throat, so he started again. "Are you better now?"

Kendall only paused for a moment. "I think so," he replied softly.

"For real this time?"

"For real this time."

Carlos grinned and turned hopefully to James and Logan. The remaining teens entered at last as Carlos found a seat on the edge of Kendall's bed, next to Kendall's feet. Logan pulled up the nearest chair, and James sat on the arm.

"How're you feeling?" asked Logan, giving Kendall's shoulder an affectionate pat.

Kendall shrugged, still a little uncomfortable. "I don't know," he admitted. "Better, but still not good. I mean, I just…" He broke off, shaking his head. Then the room became still, aside from his friend's shifting eyes. Dr. Connell told him to talk when he was ready, but were his friends prepared to listen? Was it selfish to confess his issues to the guys and let them sympathize with his feelings? Or was it selfish to hold it all inside and watch as they worried themselves sick over his well-being? Kendall wasn't sure which was the right thing to do—and if he didn't do one thing, he was doing the other.

It seemed like he was always losing.

He realized he was breathing shakily, _so close _to erupting in tears, but somehow holding onto his last strain of willpower to fight them off. His words barely came out. "I'm gonna be here for a while, aren't I?"

James nodded sorrowfully. "Yeah, I think so," he whispered.

Kendall bobbed his head, understanding, then reached up to wipe at his eyes. His right one, he discovered, was still a little tender. It hurt. Why did everything _hurt_? His eyes, his face, his arm, his legs, his torso, his heart…

Logan twiddled his thumbs. "Kendall, listen," he started. Kendall braced himself for an earnest speech. No one started a conversation like that unless they were planning on saying something serious. "We were talking, and we decided we need to apologize."

His eyebrows shot up. He hadn't been expecting that. "For what?"

"Logan told us what you said back at the crib, and it made us start to think," James said.

"I don't know if you remember," the shorter boy went on, slowly, "but you told me it's hard for you to… feel anything other than anger and fear." His voice wavered severely, and he took a long pause to regain his composure. "You asked me if you should be feeling that way. Like you wanted to know if that was okay, if you were allowed to hate the guy who did this." Then he spoke with more emotion than ever, though this time he refused to look Kendall in the eye. "And that's not _right_, Kendall. You shouldn't have had to ask that."

Kendall's heart raced a little faster, but he wasn't sure why. Was it the poison, looking to take over? Or did it simply speed in anticipation for his tears, which he knew were only moments away from coming?

Carlos spoke next, tone low and serious in a way Kendall had never heard before. "We don't know everything that happened to you when you were with those guys, and it's cool, Kendall, you don't have to tell us if you don't want to." He stopped, sniffling. "But we figured some pretty bad stuff happened. And when bad stuff happens, you get scared. And you learn to hate the things you fear. So it's normal to feel the way you did."

_Normal_.

Had it really been that simple? Did his friends assume _normal_ was him admitting how he wasn't okay? Had he been protecting them from the wrong thing? His hands began to tremble. He unconsciously ran a finger over the bandage on his arm. Forgetting that it would hurt, he tensed at the discomfort it caused.

Logan caught the movement. His eyes sparkled, lips pressed together, and eyebrows furrowed in what was the epitome of concern and pain.

No. No, no, no. Kendall couldn't stand to look at his friend a moment longer. He couldn't bear to see the hurt, the _disappointment_. He quickly withdrew his hand, knowing he'd have to work on controlling his automatic desire to touch a wound.

Then a more frightening thought hit him: what if this was a sign that he _wasn't_ getting better? What if he'd just lied to his family?

Suddenly, he could feel it again. The poison. It worked its way though every joint and limb, spread through his bloodstream like fuel for his heart. His hate was a second skin, an extra part of him he couldn't shed. He wasn't even sure who he was angry at—himself, or Chris. Maybe both. Maybe neither.

And that was what frightened him.

The stupid tears trying to force their way out of his eyes nearly succeeded. He gritted his teeth and willed them away. James spoke up as Kendall was pushing down the cries of emotion threatening to emerge.

"What we're trying to say is, we're sorry you felt like you had to pretend. Somehow we didn't make it clear that you can come to us for anything. And we've got your back, Kendall. Always. We're here if you need us." He paused, then added, "And it's okay to need us."

"You don't have to carry all the weight on your shoulders," said Logan. "I know you've got more of a big brother instinct than we do, but that doesn't have to mean you make all the sacrifices."

Carlos, with his big, innocent eyes shining brightly, asked, "You know we wanna help, right?"

They all waited for his response. His finger twitched, wanting to touch the tender stitches on his flesh. He had to swallow a lump in his throat before he spoke. "Yeah, I know."

"You'd do anything for us," Logan said, as though he'd rehearsed the speech a hundred times. "Obviously you'd even die for us."

"And we want you to know that we'd do anything for _you_," said James. "Not because we feel obligated to, but because you're our best friend and we_ want_ to. We need you here, man."

"We're always here for you," Carlos finished. "No matter what."

It shouldn't have been news to him. His friends were as protective of him as he was of them, even if they didn't show it as prominently. The truth was, Kendall treated them more like little brothers than he treated them like best friends. Kendall considered them his family, and as family he was devoted to making sure they were safe. And maybe that caused him to be a little patronizing at times, a little too willing to handle certain matters on his own, a little too ready to risk his own health to shield those he cared about.

Maybe Chris had been right when he'd said Kendall's family was his weakness. The guys, his mom, his sister—they were his soft spot. And maybe that was why Kendall had been picked as the one to lure Gustavo. It wasn't random. It wasn't because he'd happened to use the restroom at Fun Burger alone. He'd been the target from the beginning, because his flaws were so obvious to the rest of the world.

And _that_ was what made him the weakest of them all.

Logan suddenly clamped a hand around Kendall's uninjured forearm to get his attention. "And another thing," he said, guilt shaking his voice. "You have to know that what I said the other day…" He squeezed Kendall's arm tighter. "_Nothing _that man did was your fault, Kendall. None of it was." Tears welled in Logan's eyes. "And I don't hate you. I could never hate you. I promise."

That did it.

The floodgates opened, and he was gone. His chest heaved with brutal sobs. The tears finally broke through the barrier and streamed down his flushed cheeks. The salty sting irritated the scrapes on his cheekbones and the cut on his chin, which just made him cry harder.

The guys shifted uncomfortably, averting their eyes. No one reached out to touch his hand or shoulder, because that would have meant too much.

Kendall's throat was raw, but he couldn't stop crying. He blubbered like a baby and considered screaming at the top of his lungs just because he thought it would alleviate some pressure from his heavy heart. Because Logan's hate was gone, but Kendall still had his, and how was that even _fair_?

He balled his fists around the thin sheet covering his legs. "I can still feel it," he gritted out around sobs. "Guys, I can feel it." He tugged harder on the sheet and heard it rip. "I just… It's still _there_."

Logan's voice was barely a whisper. "It'll get better. Just give it some time."

"I don't even know if I'm okay. I keep saying I am, but I don't really know." He sucked in a few mouthfuls of air. Oxygen seemed to be lacking in the room. "I-I need help, you guys. I'm s-scared…"

James's face was wet, but his voice held no indication of his tears. "That's why you're here, Kendall. The doctors are going to help you. And we'll be here to help, too. Every day. Any time." He pushed a stray piece of hair out of his eyes. "You'll be okay. We'll help each other through this."

His words about togetherness caused relief, or something like it, to trickle into the dark, consuming mixture in Kendall's gut. It ebbed away at the grief, and even if it was only temporary, made Kendall feel genuinely cheerful.

And the happiness, he decided, was better than the poison.

So, maybe his attempt to protect his friends had backfired a little. Maybe he had created a thin line between selfishness and selflessness. But the guys were alive, Kendall was alive, and if they could deal with being hostages, believing their best friend was dead, drippy pipes, chipmunk attacks, strange gas station clerks, car crashes, nightmares, and mysterious addresses, then they could handle anything.

With a little help, of course.

If they were telling the truth—if they really cared about him as much as he cared about them, then Kendall had nothing to worry about. The fear and anger that still lurked under his skin would never surface again. He'd find away to cure it. And he didn't have to do it alone. No one expected him to.

Slowly his tears dried away. When he looked up, Kendall noticed the guys still retained their downcast gazes. But that wasn't the only thing he observed. He'd watched carefully as the guys had entered his room and took note of their rough appearances. But now that Kendall was up close, he could see just how wild and tangled James's hair truly was. Instead of a sob, the next thing to burst from Kendall's mouth was a laugh. Because James, the guy who spent _hours_ in the bathroom styling and restyling his most treasured physical asset, had the mane of a scruffy dog.

Kendall's laughs were quiet at first, still interspersed with his cries of emotion. But soon they took over, and his heart lifted and his chest was airy and light.

"Kendall, are you… laughing?" wondered Logan, sounding a little concerned.

Kendall clutched his sides, guffawing around his words. "James—James's hair—"

"What about James's hair?" asked the taller boy, self-consciously reaching up to touch his unruly head.

"Um, Kendall, should we call the nurse?" Logan's hand hovered over the call button on the nearby panel, obviously worried that Kendall was having some sort of psychotic break.

Kendall shook his head, laughing so hard that hiccups jolted his body. "He looks—he looks like a—a hobo!"

"What!" James bolted to his feet as Carlos snorted obnoxiously. "You guys said it wasn't that bad!"

"Because we wanted to see Kendall," replied Carlos, giggling, "and if we told you that you looked gross then you would've been in front of the mirror all afternoon."

"So you let me meet Kendall's insanely hot doctor looking like _a hobo_?"

Kendall couldn't breathe.

Logan chortled noisily and playfully ruffled James's hair. "I don't think you'll ever get it back to the way it was."

"You'll probably have to shave it off," Carlos teased. He fell across Kendall's legs, laughing hard.

James screamed in horror. He fumbled for his lucky comb and ran it furiously across his brown locks. The teeth became lodged in a snarl, and he screamed again. "SOMEONE GIVE ME A BANDANNA!"

As James began hyperventilating and Logan, Carlos and Kendall continued to asphyxiate themselves with laugher, Dr. Connell poked her head into the room after hearing James's shrieks. "Is everything okay in here?"

James instantly straightened himself up, clumsily knocking a tray table onto the floor as he did so. The comb still dangled in the mess atop his head. "Hi, I'm James Diamond." He flashed a pearly white smile, then revealed an eight-by-ten headshot titled "Feisty Firefighter" seemingly from nowhere. "This is what I usually look like."

Dr. Connell raised an amused eyebrow, unfazed by his flirtatious charm. "Sorry, sweetie. I'm engaged."

"Engaged in _this_?" He gestured to his body—more specifically, his abs.

"Engaged to be _married_."

"So nothing's official yet? I can work with that."

The therapist craned her neck to get a look at Kendall, whose stomach ached from all the hilarity. "Kendall, are your friends always like this?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

She chuckled good-humouredly and promised to return in half an hour so Kendall could tell her all about his crazy, stupid, stubborn, awesome friends. He was kind of excited for it, because he wanted her to know everything. Like how he'd discovered normal was relative. Right now he stuck to the guys' definition, where normal meant he could be himself. And being himself meant explaining all his concerns and nightmares to Dr. Connell. But he also wanted to accomplish the other version of normal, which meant hanging by the pool, recording in the studio, and chilling in the crib.

Kendall had had his doubts earlier, but the guys confirmed that they were on their way to both. Especially when Carlos dug into the back pocket of his jeans. "Oh, Kendall, I almost forgot!" he excitedly exclaimed, revealing an ivory square in the palm of his hand. "I brought you some more soap."

Yeah. Normal wasn't far away at all.


	32. Epilogue: Scars

**A/N: I have a million things I want to say, but can't seem to think of one. This is the last chapter of Another Reason, a story I started on March 13th, 2011, and ended on March 13th, 2012. What a year. I can't believe I was able to write something so long. (I mean, have you SEEN the word count?) I know for a fact that without all the support I recieved, I wouldn't have been able to finish this, let alone get past chapter 2. I can't thank you guys enough. Thank you to the readers, and double thank you to the reviewers. You guys were a huge help. I've made a lot of great friends along the way, and I am eternally grateful to those who helped me out when I got stuck (you know who you are!). It's been a long journey. I think this story has many morals, and I'm hoping you'll take some of them to heart. Now it's time to wrap things up.  
I definitely plan on writing more fics in the future, so if you enjoyed "Another Reason" and want to read more by me, subscribe to my author alert. I'll be posting more stories soon. Once again, thank you to everyone for sticking with this incredibly long story and being patient with my sometimes ridicuously slow updates. I'll say it again: I honestly could not have done it without you. **

**Warnings: None :)**

* * *

Epilogue  
Scars

When Kendall strode into apartment 2J, he was not at all surprised by the sight before him.

He sauntered past his mother, busy in the kitchen, and greeted her brightly. The table was set for dinner, and the smell of tater tots and corndogs made his stomach rumble. Or, at least, he thought it was his stomach. It could have been the floor-shaking explosions resonating from the living room.

"Carlos, stop shooting me! I'm on your team!" shouted Logan, angrily smashing the buttons on his gaming controller.

"Relax, I'm just friendly firing you."

"A friendly fire means you're betraying your own teammate! It's not actually friendly!"

"So I'm not getting bonus points?"

James hopped onto the orange cushion beside Katie and grinned victoriously. "Boo-yah! Only one more kill and we win!" Too engrossed in the game to bother sharing a high-five, the two continued rapidly moving joysticks and squeezing trigger buttons.

"Carlos, cut it out!" Logan cried, one hand leaving his controller to smack the Latino's helmet-protected head.

"What? I didn't even do anything this time," he defended. The television monitor rattled as a burst of smoke, fire and shrapnel erupted on screen. A message popped up declaring Team One as the winners.

"Yes!" Katie pumped a fist into the air. "That's three matches in a row."

"Undefeated champs!" boasted James.

While the two began a victory dance atop the cushions of the couch, Logan twirled around to Carlos. "You just threw a grenade into our own base," he scolded. Scowling, he dropped the controller onto the coffee table next to the boys' snacks and crossed his arms. "That is the last time we _ever_ play on the same team."

"Hey," Carlos protested, also abandoning his controller, "my grenade wouldn't have mattered if you hadn't planted so many landmines outside the door!"

"Those were to prevent the enemy from entering from the east side, which we wouldn't have even needed if you hadn't blasted a hole in the wall. Obviously you can't tell the difference between regular bullets and explosive rounds. You know what explosive rounds do, Carlos? They _explode_!" He jabbed a finger at Carlos's chest. "If you want a good offense, then you need a good defense."

"But our defenses just got us killed."

"Because you threw a grenade!"

Yep. It was another typical day in the crib.

Kendall had already started walking forward, anticipating the fight that was about to begin. Sure enough, Carlos roared and launched himself at Logan, successfully tackling him to the floor. Katie kept a cautious distance on the couch while James rolled his eyes and jumped down to help Kendall pry the two apart.

"Guys, guys!" Kendall cried as he and James snatched the back of Carlos's shirt. "Chill!"

Shouts of protest spilled from Carlos's mouth as he desperately fought to keep his hold on Logan's shoulders. Before Kendall and James had completely pulled the helmeted boy away, Logan recovered from the momentary shock of being tackled and thrust a leg upwards, hitting Carlos in the thigh. Carlos lost his balance, causing Kendall and James to stumble forward, and the three collided into the side of the coffee table.

Everyone froze when a glass of juice tipped and splashed against James's new pair of jeans.

The scuffle was instantly forgotten as the two boys on the ground scrambled to their feet, eyes wide. Kendall took an automatic step backwards as James stared in shock at the purple mess staining the denim, because ruining any article of clothing belonging to James Diamond could quite possibly result in death. Or worse.

"Um." Carlos pointed a finger. "Logan did it!" He bolted for the safety of the swirly slide, clambering on hands and knees all the way up the snaking yellow tube, leaving Logan and Kendall alone to fend for themselves.

James's face flushed red. "DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE JUST DONE?"

Kendall cringed. Logan ducked behind him.

"Dude, relax," said Katie, finally rising from the couch. She stepped over the spreading puddle of grape Kool-Aid, unconcerned, to stand near her brother. "I'm sure if you chuck your pants in the wash right away they'll be fine."

"It's not that simple!" James shot back. He yelped and shook his sopping leg like a dog. "Do you know how many stain sticks I'll have to use on this, if it even comes out at all?" His eyes bulged wide as a more frightening thought occurred to him. "What if it stains my _skin_? I can't walk around with a purple leg! People will think I have some sort of disease! No one will want to be near me! I'll get kicked out of the band and go bankrupt and have to live in a cardboard box on the side of the freeway forever being known as Purple Legged Diamond—"

"James, chill," said Kendall, holding up his hands. "A little bit of juice isn't going to stain your skin."

"At least not permanently," Logan added.

Kendall shot him a glare.

"Ah!" screamed James. He pushed past the three and sprinted into the bathroom, leaving a trail of Kool-Aid drops behind him. The door slammed shut. Then his muffled voice was heard from the other side. "I need to take a shower! Kendall, let me use some of your soap!"

Right. The numerous soap bars he'd collected from Carlos over the course of his hospital stay. Kendall appreciated the thought, but sixteen bars later he was sick of smelling like various flowers and summer breezes.

"No way!" Carlos called down to James, peeking out from the top of Swirly. "Those are Kendall's soaps. You can't just use his gifts."

James opened the door just a crack to answer. "Kendall can share! He's starting to become a soap hoarder, anyway." Then it slammed shut again.

"It's okay, Carlos," Kendall assured. He left Logan and his sister in the living room and began making his way to the hall. "While the soaps are awesome, you did give me a ton. I don't think I'll be able to use them all. You wouldn't want them gathering dust, would you?"

The thought of the poor little soaps being alone in Kendall's dresser drawer was obviously enough convincing for Carlos. As Kendall rounded the corner, he noticed Carlos toss his body down the slide and pop out at the bottom while Mrs. Knight wearily located a mop to clean the juice spill.

Chuckling to himself, Kendall flipped on the light to his bedroom as he entered. He could hear the dull, distant voices of the guys speaking in the other room. He stopped. Closed his eyes. Listened. Though he'd been home for quite some time now, the sound of their bickering had yet to annoy him. Frankly, he didn't think it ever would again.

He was back to being Normal Kendall. Well, sort of. Normal was relative. The Kendall from several months ago was still different from the Kendall now, but the Kendall now felt pretty darn comfortable. Yeah, the occasional nightmare would still plague him and yeah, sometimes he noticed the guys act a little strangely. But they were steadily working through it, and today seemed to have made the most progress.

It wasn't like they couldn't talk about what had happened. Though, Kendall noticed, discussions about the awful events were becoming less frequent by the day. His family wasn't completely cleansed of horrors. Katie crawled into his bed at night more often than she used to, Mrs. Knight had formed a new routine of kissing him every morning when he woke and every night before he went to bed, and the other day at the park James had freaked out when he saw a chipmunk dart across the lawn. But Dr. Connell had been a huge help to everyone. Especially Carlos. It'd taken him only a week of camping out on bedroom floors before he was able to sleep alone in his room again.

But there were also the wounds that couldn't heal.

As Kendall approached his dresser to locate the soaps, his reflection caught his eye. He paused and turned, staring at the mirror hanging on the wall. When he'd first retuned home, he hadn't recognized himself. Now he saw his old self gazing back at him with bright, lively green eyes.

Until he lifted his shirt, that is.

Kendall slowly stepped forward, pushing up his sleeves. The scars marring his skin were a harrowing reminder of what he had been through. The line slicing across his left arm was pink and knotted, occasionally a bit painful to the touch, depending on the day. He constantly wore long sleeves since arriving back home, therefore only catching a glimpse of his bare arms when he showered or dressed himself.

The rope burns on his wrists had faded decently. While Kendall had been in the hospital, the burns had left behind tiny clusters of scabs that itched like crazy as they healed. Logan had duct-taped oven mitts to Kendall's hands to prevent him from scratching at the wounds. Kendall complained oven mitts were a common treatment for chickenpox and shouldn't have to wear them, but Logan was insistent. Kendall had been teased mercilessly from James and Carlos over the floral pattern of the gloves, and had felt like a helpless little kid under the attentive supervision of Dr. Mitchell.

It had been a long stay.

He ran a ginger finger over a barely visible cut above his eyebrow. The scars would always be there, and so would the horrific memories of the ordeal he had experienced. Over time, the scars would fade from sight and hide themselves, only to be rediscovered when a finger brushed over the spot and felt the tiny ridge of elevated skin. Just like his memories would eventually stop distracting him and interfering with his everyday life. Kendall still found himself tossing and turning in his bed some nights, not being able to rest until he poked his head into James's room to make sure he was still there. The occurrences were less frequent now, but not completely gone.

No, the scars would never go away. But they would fade, and Kendall figured that was good enough.

He forced himself to smile into the mirror. Then he pulled himself away from the reflection and finally reached his dresser. The top drawer had been cleared of socks and undergarments to make room for the pile of multicolored soaps he'd accumulated over his hospital stay. How the gift shop managed to stay in stock, Kendall would never know. The small bars ranged from a creamy white to bright pink in color, and were scented anywhere from Cinnamon to Fresh Laundry to totally strange ones like Leather Jacket. Jo seemed to like that one, though.

Kendall began to sort through the collection, already knowing which one to give to James. He couldn't imagine rubbing something called Dr. Feelgood onto his skin. The little white bar had a sharp, spicy scent to it that actually didn't smell too bad. It was sure to attract attention, and therefore was perfect for James.

Smirking to himself, Kendall grabbed the bar and made his way back to the main room of 2J. Immediately he noticed Logan and Carlos rolling on the floor, nothing but a tangle of flailing limbs, while Mrs. Knight attempted to pull them apart and Katie sat at the kitchen table, laughing. Kendall sighed, ignoring his arguing friends for now, and pounded his fist against the bathroom door. The sound of running water could be heard on the other side. "James, I got your soap."

"Door's open," he called.

"…I don't really want to come in, James."

"Don't worry, I have my clothes on."

Kendall hesitantly twisted the knob and pushed the door open. He made a face. "You shower with your clothes on?"

James parted the curtain. "I do when I've been assaulted with liquids!"

"Ew."

"Shut up," he muttered, sticking out a hand. "Just hand me the soap before I turn purple."

Kendall stepped into the foggy bathroom and passed his friend the bar. James quickly ducked back into the shower, some stray drops of water flicking onto Kendall's face as he whipped his head around. Kendall wiped them away with the sleeve of his shirt. "Have you forgotten the time you were orange? You weren't so concerned about it then."

"I looked good and you know it. Besides, it wasn't orange, it was _mangerine._"

Shaking his head, Kendall let James get back to his shower. He raised his eyebrows when he saw his mother on the floor, yanking on Carlos's shoulders to prevent the Latino from killing the boy pinned beneath him. "Boys, stop it!" she cried, narrowly dodging a foot to the face. "I am not afraid to ground you!"

The threat made Carlos stop immediately, because, Kendall knew, a grounding for Carlos was absolute _torture_. He could hardly stand being in one place for more than a few hours, so to be locked inside the apartment all day while the rest of his friends were outside enjoying eighty-five degree weather was the worst kind of punishment.

Mrs. Knight aided Logan to his feet, who straightened his collar and smoothed out his disheveled hair. The two boys shot a couple glares to each other, but were interrupted when Mrs. Knight's phone rang.

"I am going to answer that," she said, pointing a stern finger towards each of them, "and you two are going to stay at least ten feet away from each other. Understand?"

"Yes, Mrs. Knight," they responded in unison, hanging their heads.

"Good." She walked past Kendall, who fought back an amused smirk, and to her purse on the counter. When she checked the caller ID, her body stiffened.

"Mom, who is it?" asked Kendall, noticing the change in her demeanor.

The phone continued ringing in her hands. She cleared her throat. "It's Officer McNair." Taking a deep breath, she pressed a button with her thumb and held the device to her ear. "Hello?"

From the corner of his eye, Kendall saw Carlos, Logan and Katie all whip their heads to him. He felt his skin go pale, felt his breath hitch in his throat. His eyes never left his mother as she cupped a hand over the receiver to talk quietly with the officer.

Carlos raced through the kitchen and opened the bathroom door. He said something to James, who responded with a few cross words before he understood what Carlos was trying to explain. James then immediately stepped out of the bathroom, fully clothed and soaking wet.

Kendall inhaled through his nose and blew the air out through his mouth, attempting to calm his racing heart. Logan noticed and placed a hand on his shoulder, but Kendall barely felt it. He was desperate to know the officer's news. Considering Mrs. Knight had yet to relax her tense muscles, Kendall assumed it was bad.

Finally she ended the call and turned to Katie and the boys, who had gone completely still. A large puddle had formed around James as the warm shower water continued rolling off his body, but no one seemed to care.

Mrs. Knight licked her lips as she examined all the expectant faces. "McNair was calling to tell us that, ah…" She slowly dropped her phone back into her purse, stalling for time. "…That a date has finally been set for the trial."

Once again, every head in the room turned towards Kendall.

He needed a moment to think. Finally breaking eye contact from his mother, Kendall shrugged away from Logan and walked slowly towards the kitchen counter. He gripped the overhanging edge so tight that his knuckles turned white. He closed his eyes, pondering. A couple shivers ran down his spine as the pictures in his mind turned to frightening memories. Yeah, Normal Kendall still had his moments. He remembered every one of Chris's punches. Every shadow that crossed the man's face. Every word he spoke. Every time the pistol winked.

But that's all the thoughts were. Memories.

Mrs. Knight said his name, pulling Kendall from his recollections. He rotated back around. They stared at him, waiting for him to speak, waiting for a decision. Kendall took a long look at everyone. They were the reason why he'd left, the reason he'd returned, and the reason he was Kendall Knight. They were everything.

"Alright," he finally answered, voice quiet but casual.

"Alright?" Logan echoed. He crinkled his brow. "You know you're going to have to testify, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

James, still dripping on the kitchen floor, spoke slowly. "And you're… okay with that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You'll be in the same room with them," Logan pointed out, referring to Kendall's former captors. He lowered his voice, speaking cautiously. "With… _him_."

Kendall shrugged his shoulders. The guys were allowed to be scared. _Kendall _was allowed to be scared. But that didn't mean he would be. Chris had lost. Kendall won. And Chris needed to see it with his own eyes.

Besides. Kendall didn't fear Chris. He feared the Chris from his memories. There was, he'd discovered, a significant difference between the two.

Confidently, Kendall reminded, "He can't hurt me."

Five simultaneous grins lit up the room. Kendall could sense the relief his words had caused. The air seemed a little lighter, as well as his chest. For some reason an almost overwhelming sense of comfort flooded his body, making his heart flutter and his eyes sting. The looks they gave him were so hopeful, so optimistic. He hadn't seen their faces like that in a long time.

As Mrs. Knight clapped her hands together and declared dinner was ready, James proclaimed something about blow-drying his body and promptly locked himself in the bathroom. Logan and Carlos sat at opposite sides of the table and waited patiently for James to finish.

Kendall found a seat beside his sister and watched hungrily as Mrs. Knight removed the tray from the oven. All the while he couldn't shake the fluffy feeling from his chest. He felt protected and secure, like invisible arms were wrapped around him in a warm embrace. When James emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later—somehow looking like he'd just stepped out of a salon—and sat at the table, Kendall couldn't contain his thoughts anymore.

"Listen," he told his family. They instantly gave him their full attention; he figured he must have sounded pretty serious. Kendall cleared his throat. "Um, so, this is probably going to sound really girly," he started, suddenly feeling a little awkward, "but I have to admit that I'm really glad I have such an awesome family."

He received a simultaneous "Aww," from Mrs. Knight and Katie, whose love he never had to question.

"And I'm glad I have such an awesome big brother," his sister said.

"And an awesome son," added Mrs. Knight, smiling warmly.

Happy he finally got what he wanted to say off his chest, Kendall raised his glass of juice to his lips to take a drink.

"Aw," gushed Carlos, "Kendall loves us."

Kendall choked on his drink. Logan reached over to give him an unconcerned smack on the upper back, which actually made the situation worse. "Come again?" he managed when he finally got a breath.

Carlos grinned cheekily while half a corndog hung out of his mouth. "Kendall loves us! Kendall loves us!" he taunted.

Heat rushed to Kendall's cheeks. "I didn't say that!" he cried, mortified.

"Yeah, but that's what you meant."

"No it wasn't!"

"Yeah," argued Logan, not bothering to look up from his dinner, "it totally was."

"Definitely," agreed James, equally indifferent.

"You guys are twisting my words!" Kendall defended. His tone became more firm. "I said you were awesome. That's it."

There was a long pause as Kendall allowed the words to sink in. He ignored the subtle smirk curving Katie's lips and his mom's slight eye roll and prepared to get back to his dinner before it went cold.

"You still love us, though."

Crying out, Kendall lunged out of his chair and tackled Carlos to the ground, corndogs and tater tots flying into the air like confetti. He heard a snicker from Katie and a sigh from Mrs. Knight, and two annoyed groans from James and Logan as they abandoned their meals to break up the playful fight. Kendall got the upper hand and trapped Carlos underneath him, because no one teased Kendall for loving his friends.

…Even if it was true.

It seemed as though the guys always knew when he was lying. Before he'd been admitted to the hospital, he'd tried to convince them he was fine, but they'd seen right through his façade. They were the ones who'd told him it was okay to feel like he did. They were the ones who'd promised things would get better. And Big Time Rush did not break promises.

They were stronger than him. And they certainly didn't need him protecting them like an older brother would do for his younger siblings.

At least, not all the time.

He realized that instead of screaming, Carlos was giggling like a child, especially when Logan tried to intervene and ended up tripping on his shoelace and getting sucked into the scuffle. Not wanting to be left out, James flung himself atop the pile, effectively crushing Kendall.

Soon their sides ached from laughter, and Kendall could barely catch his breath around his loud guffaws. This was exactly how things used to be. He remembered all the times they'd laughed themselves sick, and all the times they'd wrestled like they wanted to hurt each other—even though they knew they'd never actually do it.

It scared him, sometimes, when he realized how close he'd been to never doing this again.

Thankful his mother seemed to understand his need to goof off, Kendall rolled away from the pile, panting hard. The guys followed, a few chuckles still escaping them. Kendall had never experienced a more contented feeling as he did when he pulled himself to his feet. He loved that he had to deal with James's melodramatic episodes. He loved that he had to pull Carlos and Logan away from each other. And most of all, he loved that he could _love_.

He was ready to get back to the table when Carlos, beaming, bounced forward and wrapped his arms firmly around Kendall's middle. For a moment Kendall thought another round of wrestling was about to begin, but then realized Carlos had simply trapped him in a spontaneous hug. Carlos was good at those.

Kendall's body relaxed in the hold. He was slightly surprised when Logan and James stepped forward to place brotherly hands on his back.

They stood there for a while, silent. When they finally pulled away, something wet slipped from Kendall's eye. He quickly wiped the unexpected tear away, hoping the guys hadn't noticed.

But, of course, they had.

"You okay?" asked Logan.

Kendall looked into each pair of concerned eyes. "Yeah," he replied, smiling. "I'm fine."

And this time, he meant it.

**THE END**


End file.
